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LINCOLN  ROOM 

UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS 
LIBRARY 


MEMORIAL 

the  Class  of  1901 

founded  by 

HARLAN  HOYT  HORNER 

and 

HENRIETTA  CALHOUN  HORNER 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 


"  Hold  onto  him,  Abe  !  " 


Th 


e 


BOY  LINCOLN 


By 
WILLIAM    0.   STODDARD 

Author  of 

"  The  Windfall,"  "  The  Red  Patriot,"  "  The  Spy  of 

YorktowTi,"  "The  Fight  for  the  Valley,"  etc. 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW    YORK 
D.    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY 

1905 


Copyright,  1905,  bt 
D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY 


Published  September,  1905 


PREFACE 


There  is  a  wonderful  romance  in  the  early  life 
of  Abraham  Lincoln.  It  is  worth  anybody's  while  to 
study  the  beginnings  of  such  a  career  and  examine 
the  first  steps  made  toward  the  greatness  which  was 
to  come.  Only  a  few  months  before  I  became  ac- 
quainted with  him,  I  was  living  in  just  such  a  log 
house  as  he  built  for  his  father  in  Illinois  and  but 
a  few  miles  north  of  it.  Both  were  larger  and  better 
than  the  cabin  in  the  Indiana  backwoods,  but  each 
had  just  such  a  puncheon  floor  as  Abe's  step-mother 
made  Tom  Lincoln  put  down  on  her  arrival.  There 
were  ten  miles  of  open  prairie  between  me  and  the 
nearest  fenced  settlement,  and  all  the  Embarrass 
River  timber  near  at  hand  contained  but  one  Yan- 
kee. The  other  settlers  were  all  from  Kentucky, 
southern  Indiana  and  Ohio,  altogether  such  neigh- 
bors as  were  his  own  around  Gentiyville.  With  all 
features  of  their  character  and  life  I  became  so 
familiar  that  it  sometimes  seems  as  if  I  had  lived 
where  he  did. 

I  wish  that  those  who  may  read  this  story  might 
understand  him  better  and  then  read  on  through  the 
grand  history  of  his  life  till  they  know  why  those 


PREFACE 

who  were  associated  with  him  obtained  such  exalted 
ideas  of  him.  During  the  years  of  my  experience 
with  him  in  the  White  House,  it  seemed  to  me  as  if 
his  tall  form  grew  taller  all  the  while ;  and  now,  as 
I  look  back  through  the  mists  of  memory  and  a  half 
century  of  time,  to  our  first  meeting  in  my  editorial 
room,  he  appears  gigantic  and  I  almost  doubt  if  he 
ever  did  really  get  into  so  small  a  place  and  sit 
down  with  me  to  discuss  our  county  politics. 

I  have  carefully  avoided  bringing  into  this  nar- 
rative imaginary  places  or  occurrences  or  indi- 
viduals, and  if  old  man  Sansom  is  to  be  called  an 
exception  to  the  rule,  it  may  be  replied  that  no  man 
can  live  long  on  the  frontier  or  in  the  backwoods 
without  meeting  his  counterpart  and  hearing  him 
say,  "  I  knowed  a  man,  once " 

There  is  here  a  lesson  of  possible  development, 
advancement,  uplifting,  which  is  invaluable.  It  is 
peculiarly  American  and  should  become  familiar  to 
every  boy  or  girl  in  the  Eepublic  for  which  he  did 
and  suffered  so  much  and  so  unselfishly.  There- 
fore I  am  going  to  send  out  my  little  book  and  ask 
them  to  go  into  the  Indiana  clearing  with  me  and 
hear  Abe  talk  with  old  man  Sansom  and  listen  to 
the  debates  of  the  parliament  that  held  its  impor- 
tant sessions  in  Gentry's  grocery. 

William  0.  Stoddaed. 

vi 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I. — The  Neighbors 1 

II. — Great  Comfort 18 

III.— The  Hunter 36 

IV.— The  Four-Horse  Team 55 

v.— The  New  Home 71 

VI. — Out  of  the  Shadow 89 

VII. — The  Old  and  the  New 107 

VIII.— New  Schools 125 

IX. — The  Summer  Woods 143 

X. — Horse-Dealing       .........  161 

XI.— The  Country  Store 179 

XII.— The  Debates 197 

XIII. — Stump  Speaking 215 

XIV.— The  Rail-Splitter 231 


▼ii 


LIST   OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


FACING 
PAQK 


"  Hold  onto  him,  Abe  !  " Frontispiece 

Boyhood  home  of  Lincoln 33 

"Are  black  fellers  the  same  kind  0'  human  that  folks  are?"      44 

Sarah  Bush  Lincoln gg 

After  a  photograph  taken  in  1865. 

"Look  straight  at  me!    Bow!" 138 

Lines  written  by  Lincoln  on  the  leaf  of  his  school-book         .     156 
He  was  mounted  upon  one  of  tlie  largest  stumps    .        .        .    226 

Abraham  Lincoln 246 

Photographed  iu  1860. 

ix 


THE  BOY  LINCOLN 


CHAPTER   I 

THE   NEIGHBORS 


I  HERE  were  about  thirty  acres  of  land 
upon  which  there  were  no  trees.  All 
around  this  patch  the  forest  was  un- 
broken. On  the  southerly  side  were  many  stumps 
to  tell  of  ax  work,  and  the  remainder  was  one  of 
the  natural  "  opens  "  which  are  always  so  eagerly 
sought  for  by  frontiersmen,  because  it  is  as  if  there 
was  just  so  much  weary  chopping  already  done  and 
the  stumps  pulled  out.  In  among  the  stumps,  but 
not  at  all  concealed,  were  two  rude  structures  made 
of  untrimmed  logs.  One  of  these  was  only  a  long, 
low  shed,  with  a  front  composed  of  poles  and  slabs 
of  bark.  This  was  what  some  of  the  Western  peo- 
ple called  a  "  half- faced  camp,"  and  others  a  "  pole 

1 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

shelter."  The  other  building  was  a  well-made  log 
house,  about  twenty  feet  by  thirty,  with  a  split- 
shingle  roof.  On  the  farther  side  of  it  was  a  huge 
chimney,  made  of  sticks  and  tempered  clay,  but  as 
yet,  that  frosty  morning,  no  smoke  from  its  black- 
ened nose  was  rising  above  the  roof-peak.  Opposite 
the  chimney  and  in  the  middle  of  the  house-front 
there  was  a  doorway,  and  on  either  side  of  this  were 
wide,  square  holes  for  windows,  but  these  had  in 
them  neither  sash  nor  glass. 

Just  as  a  faint  glimmer  of  coming  light  began 
to  grow  among  the  eastern  tree  tops,  a  framework 
of  planks  inside  the  doorway  swung  slowly  back, 
and  beyond  this  the  sound  of  shrill  young  voices 
was  heard,  cheerily  answering  one  another.  It  had 
required  the  strength  of  two  young  borderers  to  lift 
and  swing  back  that  door,  and  one  of  them  stepped 
quickly  out  and  glanced  in  all  directions  around 
him.  If  he  were  only  ten,  he  was  a  tall  boy  for  his 
age,  and  somewhat  slender.  His  dark,  bushy  hair 
was  partly  hidden  by  a  brimless  coonskin  cap, 
which  seemed  to  add  something  or  other  to  the 
expression  of  merry  good-humor  upon  his   sun- 

2 


THE    NEIGHBORS 

burned  face.  As  to  the  rest  of  bis  outfit,  he  did  not 
appear  to  have  anything  on  him  which  had  not 
originally  been  part  of  the  wearing  apparel  of  some 
luckless  deer.  However  well  his  buckskin  shirt 
and  leggings  had  been  constructed  by  a  backwoods 
tailor,  they  were  now  a  good  deal  the  worse  for 
wear.  As  to  waraith  and  comfort,  they  would  have 
been  well  enough  at  some  other  season  of  the  year, 
but  were  hardly  the  thing  for  frosty  weather.  The 
moccasins  on  his  feet  came  half-way  up  the  ankles, 
and  seemed  to  be  made  of  pretty  thick  deer  leather. 

"  Hard  frost,  Dennis,"  he  said.  "  It  a'most 
looks  as  if  thar  had  been  a  fall  o'  snow.  Reckon 
deer  'd  leave  a  good  trail,  this  mornin'." 

"  It  wouldn't  do  us  any  good  if  they  did,"  re- 
plied Dennis,  from  beyond  the  doorway.  "Wish 
we  had  a  gun !  " 

"  Abe !  Abe ! "  called  out  a  girl's  voice  from 
within,  "what  we  want  first  is  a  bucket  of  water. 
Don't  let's  poke  up  the  fire  till  we  git  one." 

"All  right,"  said  Abe.  "The  bucket's  right 
here  by  the  door.    Come  on." 

Dennis  was  no  taller  than  Abe,  but  he  was 

3 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

broader  shouldered  and  may  have  been  older.  The 
third  member  of  that  household  to  come  out  in 
sight  was  not  more  than  twelve  years  old.  She 
was  a  great  deal  better-looking  than  either  of  the 
others,  without  being  at  all  better  dressed ;  that  is, 
her  moccasins  were  in  fair  condition,  but  her  woolen 
frock  was  in  need  of  darning  in  several  places. 
Her  head  was  bare,  and  her  ripi3ling  brown  hair 
fell  down  over  her  shoulders. 

AVhen  Abe  had  picked  up  his  bucket  and  the 
three  walked  away  together,  the  house  behind  them 
was  all  alone. 

The  land,  upon  which  there  were  no  trees,  in- 
cluding that  upon  which  there  were  stumps,  lay  in 
low  ridges  which  told  of  the  plow.  At  regular 
intervals  along  the  ridges  the  white  carpet  of 
frost  was  pierced  by  the  stiff-looking  yellow  stumps 
which  are  left  behind  by  the  corn-cutter.  There 
were  no  other  signs  of  any  cropping  on  that  small 
farm. 

The  three  were  following  a  well-trodden  path- 
way.   It  led  away  to  the  eastward,  almost  into  the 

forest.    Not  quite,  for  here  at  its  edge  was  a  long, 

4 


THE    NEIGHBORS 

narrow  level,  the  face  of  which  looked  as  if  a  great 
pane  of  polished  glass,  with  ragged  borders,  were 
gloomily  waiting  for  the  sunlight  to  come  over  the 
tree  tops  and  enable  it  and  its  neighboring  frost- 
faces  to  glimmer  and  smile.  There  was  no  spring 
here,  for  no  rivulet  flowed  away  from  the  pool,  but 
much  rain-water  had  drained  into  this  hollow  and  it 
had  become  a  natural  cistern,  such  as  was  needed 
by  people  who  had  no  other  and  had  digged  no 
well. 

The  young  people  halted  at  the  edge  of  the  ice, 
and  Abe  put  down  his  bucket  to  take  another  long 
look  around  him  and  to  remark : 

"  I  say,  Sis,  don't  you  be  skeered.  But  didn't 
old  man  Sansom  tell  how  the  redskins  used  to  come 
an'  watch  at  sech  places  as  this"?  They'd  skulk  in 
bushes,  like  them  over  yonder,  an'  draw  a  bead  on 
you  while  you  were  fiUin'  your  bucket.  Then  they'd 
come  'round  an'  take  your  skelp  an'  git  away  with 
it.    Ain't  you  glad  they're  gonel  " 

"  Oo-oogh ! "  shuddered  Sis.  "  I  wish  he 
wouldn't  tell  any  more  awful  stories.  But  our 
folks  killed  'em  off  for  it,  anyway." 

5 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

"  So  they  did,"  almost  whispered  back  Abe. 
"  But,  Nancy,  keep  still !  You  an'  Dennis,  both. 
Look  3"onder — 'cross  the  pool — 'mong  the  sumacs !  " 

There  was  a  dense  growth  of  bushes  on  the  far- 
ther margin  of  the  sheet  of  ice.  Away  out  over 
them  stretched  the  leafless  branches  of  the  giant 
oaks,  with  a  protective  expression,  although  no 
sumac-bush  was  ever  the  child  of  any  oak.  The 
previous  summer  had  been  one  of  prosperity  for 
that  copse.  The  red  "  bobs  "  were  numerous,  and 
the  frost  had  brought  out  all  their  brilliancy  of 
color,  while  it  had  not  lessened  the  yellow  tints  of 
such  remnants  of  foliage  as  still  clung  to  the  wide 
anns  of  the  forest  monarchs. 

"  Hush-sh !  "  whispered  Xancy.  "  I  see  'em ! 
Keep  still,  Denny !  " 

There  were  three  faces  which  were  almost  out 
from  the  cover  of  the  bushes;  three  forms  which 
were  as  motionless  as  those  of  Xancy  herself  and 
her  two  companions.  That  was  only  for  a  moment, 
and  then  they  gently  nudged  one  another,  as  if  they 
were  pointing  across  the  ice  and  saying  something 
about  the  water-carriers  from  the  log  house.    One 

6 


THE    NEIGHBORS 

of  them,  in  the  middle,  was  a  very  handsome  fellow, 
and  he  was  large  for  one  of  his  family,  although 
his  antlers  told  for  him  that  he  was  only  five  years 
old.  Once  more  he  stood  still,  while  the  two  does 
on  either  side  of  him  drew  closer  till  they  touched 
him,  as  if  to  remind  him  that  he  was  their  pro- 
tector, in  case  there  might  be  any  danger  to  them 
in  the  three  other  wild  creatures  at  whom  they 
were  staring. 

"  Buck  an'  two  does,"  muttered  Abe.  "  Don't  I 
wish  I  had  a  rifle !  But  father  took  his  with  him, 
all  the  way  to  Kentucky.    Good  short  range." 

"  Oh,  don't  kill  'em !  "  said  Nancy ;  "  they're  too 
pretty." 

"Can't!"  grumbled  Abe.  "But  I  could,  if  I 
had  a  gun." 

"  Don't  believe  you  could  hit  'em,"  said  Dennis 
doubtfully. 

The  buck  stood  quite  fearlessly,  and  may  have 

been  under  the  impression  that  he  had  not  been 

seen.    No  one  could  have  told  him  that  the  family 

rifle  had  just  then  gone  visiting.    The  fact  is  that 

as  to  deer  and  their  perceptions  concerning  hunters 
3  7 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

there  is  no  authentic  record.  They  will  sometimes 
expose  themselves  recklessly  without  any  apparent 
reason.  Other  animals  are  strangely  careless  at 
times.  It  has  been  declared  by  a  multitude  of  in- 
telligent farmers  that  the  crow  alone  will  never 
allow  a  man  with  a  gun  to  come  anywhere  near 
him.  If,  indeed,  the  man  will  lay  down  his  gun 
and  walk  away  from  it,  or  if  he  has  accidentally 
left  his  ammunition  at  home,  the  dark-winged  com- 
stealer  will  be  more  neighborly.  There  have  been 
endless  arguments  as  to  the  manner  in  which  he 
determines  the  precise  range  of  any  shotgun,  and 
whether  or  not  it  is  loaded. 

The  buck  and  his  companions  continued  to  look 
on  in  silence,  while  Abe  broke  the  thin  ice  with  a 
stick  and  filled  his  rude  bucket  with  water.  So  little 
did  they  appear  to  be  alarmed,  in  fact,  that  one  of 
the  does  began  to  nibble  at  a  sumac  bob,  and  the 
other  went  back  a  step  or  two  and  picked  at  the 
red  berries  of  a  mountain-ash.  Abe  put  down  his 
bucket  to  watch  them,  and  remarked: 

"I've  heard  tell  about  that.    It's  one  way  the 

deer  git  thar  livin',  all  winter  long.     They'll  eat 

8 


THE    NEIGHBORS 

twigs,  too,  an'  they'll  scratch  away  the  snow  from 
any  place  whar  thar's  a  bunch  o'  grass  under  it." 

"  Why,"  objected  Nancy,  "  they  couldn't  see  the 
grass." 

"  Yes,  they  can,"  said  Abe,  "  right  through  the 
snow.  An'  father  says  a  buck'll  stand  an'  keep 
watch  while  the  does  eat  up  the  fodder." 

"  But  how  does  he  git  his  own  dinner?  "  asked 
Nancy. 

"Oh,"  replied  Abe,  with  a  chuckle,  "he  says 
the  old  coon's  only  playin'  sharp.  He  watches, 
an'  then  he  goes  round  an'  scoops  all  the  rest  o' 
the  grass  the  does  have  been  uncoverin'  for  him. 
They'll  scratch  the  snow  in  a  dozen  places.  Saves 
him  heaps  o'  work." 

There  was  hardly  any  wind  blowing.  There 
rarely  is,  near  the  roots  of  the  trees  in  a  great  for- 
est, whatever  gusts  may  be  driving  overhead.  In 
the  summer-time,  when  the  foliage  is  thick,  one  may 
often  lie  on  the  ground  in  an  almost  undisturbed 
stillness,  unless  a  hurricane  should  upset  a  heavy 
trunk  upon  him.    Nevertheless  the  air  was  bracing, 

and  the  young  water-carriers  were  quite  willing  to 

9 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

pick  up  their  bucket  and  walk  off  with  it  toward 
the  house.  Xancy  lingered  for  one  more  glance  at 
the  pretty  brown  faces  among  the  sumacs,  but  at 
that  moment  the  buck  tossed  his  antlered  head  and 
the  does  wheeled  gracefuUy  to  spring  away  with 
him  into  the  forest.  They  had  seen  enough  for  one 
morning,  and  it  might  be  best  for  them  to  go  and 
break  the  ice  in  some  other  pool.  At  least  they  had 
no  fires  to  build,  if  their  breakfasts  were  yet  to 
come,  and  that  was  what  their  htuuan  neighbors 
were  now  thinking  of. 

"  If  we'd  only  jest  set  it  goin'  I "  said  Xancy 

"  Xever  mind,"  replied  Abe ;  '•  I  reckon  it'U 
come  up,  quick  enough.  "VTe  covered  heaps  o'  red 
coals  last  evenin'.-' 

There  was  an  important  feature  of  border 
housekeeping  hidden  in  that  statement  concerning 
fire  that  was  smothered  under  a  heap  of  ashes. 
Not  in  aU  that  forest,  down  to  the  Ohio  Eiver,  six- 
teen miles  awav  southerlv,  nor  bevond  it,  could 
there  have  been  found  one  box  of  good  lucifer 
matches  that  morning.     As  for  going  northward 

10 


THE    NEIGHBORS 

after  one,  there  were  no  settlements  of  any  unpoi- 
tance  between  that  small  clearing  and  the  shores  of 
the  great  lakes.  All  was  a  wilderness,  into  which 
matches  had  not  yet  intruded,  for  the  entire  new 
State  contained  not  more  than  a  htmdred  and  twenty 
thousand  inhabitants.  In  every  cabin,  therefore, 
the  fire  when  once  kindled  had  to  be  kept  up  per- 
petually, like  the  Sacred  Fire  of  the  Six  Nations 
in  their  Conncil-house  among  the  Onondagas.  Wise 
men  have  studied  and  written  concerning  the  origin 
and  meaning  of  that  mystic  and  wonderful  Sacred 
Fire,  not  thinking  deeply  enongh  to  put  themselves 
in  mind  of  how  many  other  fires,  in  how  many 
wigwams,  were  from  day  to  day,  year  to  year,  con- 
tinually kindled  from  that  central  blaze.  It  was 
but  a  sort  of  National  Treasury  of  carefully  pre- 
served combnstioiL 

The  heap  of  ashes  on  the  hearth  in  the  log  cabin 
had  a  cold  look  on  its  face  when  the  children  came 
in.  Abe  and  Dennis  put  down  the  bucket  inside  the 
door,  but  Xancv  darted  ahead  of  them  and  besan 
very  gently  to  shave  away  ashes  from  the  top  of 

the  heap. 

U 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

"Hold  on!"  said  Abe.  "I'll  fetch  in  some 
birch  bark;  hickory,  too.  We'll  have  a  fire,  soon 
enough.    Don't  blow  it  till  I  come." 

Out  he  went,  and  it  was  but  a  few  steps  to  a 
liberal  wood-pile,  on  one  side  of  which  lay  a  heap 
of  bark  and  small  branches.  Dennis  had  followed 
him  for  an  armful  of  larger  wood,  and  in  less  than 
a  minute  they  also  were  stooping  over  the  ashes. 
More  were  scraped  away,  and  Abe  exclaimed : 

"  It's  kept  first-rate.  Look  at  those  coals !  It'll 
come  up." 

There  they  were,  plenty  of  them,  and  as  their 
gray  blanket  was  removed,  so  that  they  could  ob- 
tain a  breath  of  the  morning  air,  they  all  woke  up, 
with  red  and  healthy  faces.  Nancy  blew  them  hard, 
and  more  color  came  into  their  cheeks  and  her  own. 
Some  of  them  even  sent  out  angry  sparkles,  as  if 
they  resented  being  disturbed  from  their  quiet 
slumbers.  The  bits  of  dry  bark  were  deftly  laid  in 
place,  and  now  there  was  no  need  for  any  more 
blowing,  so  speedily  did  the  yellow  flames  dance 
upward.    More  bark  went  on,  some  small  branches, 

and  then  Abe  sprang  to  his  feet,  exclaiming : 

12 


THE    NEIGHBORS 

"Thar!  That'll  do.  Nancy,  you  stir  up  the 
pone,  while  he  an'  I  go  for  a  back-log.  You'd  bet- 
ter let  me  cut  the  bacon." 

"  I'll  do  that,"  said  Dennis.  "  I  can  cut  it  bet- 
ter'n  you  can." 

"No,  you  can't,"  said  Abe;  "you  always  cut  it 
too  thick." 

Out  they  went  to  the  wood-pile,  and  here  there 
was  a  selection  to  be  made,  on  consultation.  They 
agreed,  and  the  cut  of  oak  which  was  to  serve  as  a 
backlog  for  the  fire  was  one  which  had  been 
chopped  off  by  stronger  hands  than  theirs.  It  was 
a  bit  of  fuel  which  was  to  be  rolled  to  its  place 
rather  than  carried.  It  was  easy  enough  to  get  it 
in  front  of  the  fireplace  and  take  away  the  and- 
irons, but  then  there  still  remained  a  kind  of  prob- 
lem in  log-house  engineering  as  to  the  manner  in 
which  so  heavy  a  weight  was  to  be  put  away  back 
without  crushing  out  the  very  life  of  that  now  joy- 
ous and  healthy  fire.  Both  of  the  boys,  however, 
had  seen  that  thing  done,  for  they  now  brought  out 
of  a  corner  a  couple  of  short,  strong  poles,  which 
they  skilfully  employed  as  levers.    Under  the  log 

13 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

went  the  poles,  and  then  both  skill  and  strength 
went  into  one  long,  hard-breathing  lift. 

"  Thar  she  goes !  "  shouted  Abe.  "  That'll  bum 
all  day  an'  all  night.  Now  we'll  put  in  the  irons 
and  go  for  a  forestick." 

Whack  up  against  the  backlog  went  the  and- 
irons, and,  shortly,  in  came  a  smaller  cut  which  was 
still  heavy  enough  to  require  piying  with  the  levers. 
Here  was  therefore  a  good  foundation,  and  all  sorts 
of  smaller  firewood  might  be  heaped  upon  it  at 
pleasure.  At  the  same  time  all  the  coals  which 
remained,  with  others  which  were  rapidly  making, 
were  carefully  poked  out  to  the  front,  for  it  was 
getting  hungrily  near  breakfast-time,  and  the  cabin 
cookery  was  yet  to  be  done.  Part  of  it  had  already 
begun,  for  Nancy  had  climbed  upon  a  table  in  a 
comer  to  bring  down  a  large  earthenware  bowl,  and 
into  this,  with  an  iron  spoon,  she  had  ladled  a  quan- 
tity of  Indian  corn-meal  from  a  bag  under  the 
table.  This  itself  consisted  of  four  forked  stakes 
driven  into  the  ground,  crosspieces  on  the  stakes, 
and  on  these  three  sawed  planks,  all  unplaned.    Into 

the  meal  Nancy  had  sifted  a  little  salt,  she  had 

14 


THE    NEIGHBORS 

poured  on  water  from  the  bucket,  she  had  stirred 
vigorously,  and  now  the  pone  was  standing  to  soak 
until  its  time  should  come  for  further  treatment. 
Against  the  wall  near  the  table  hung  several  flitches 
of  bacon,  a  good-looking  ham  and  a  shoulder ;  and 
Abe,  with  Dennis  watching  him,  was  now  at  work 
with  a  butcher-knife  cutting  long  slices  from  one 
of  the  flitches.  He  made  the  slices  thin,  but  liberal, 
for  he  knew  about  what  might  be  done  with  them 
by  himself  and  his  two  assistants. 

The  bed  of  coals  was  now  a  good  one,  and  on 
it  Dennis  had  placed  a  long-handled  sheet-iron 
saucepan,  which  heated  so  quickly  that  the  fragrant 
pork  began  to  liiss  and  sizzle  the  moment  the  slices 
were  laid  down.  The  whole  house  took  on  a  differ- 
ent air,  one  of  comfort,  as  soon  as  that  smoke  began 
to  rise  and  float  around.  Any  part  of  it  which 
might  choose  to  do  so  was  free  to  go  out  at  the 
door,  for  none  of  them  had  thought  of  closing  it. 
The  windows  were  still  closed  by  wooden  shutters, 
which  hung  from  leather  strap  hinges  above  and 
were  secured  at  the  bottoms  by  leather  catches,  so 
that  no  midnight  burglar  could  break  in — not  with- 

15 


THE    BOY    LINXOLN 

out  a  shove  strong  enough  to  break  that  deerskin. 
All  the  light  in  the  room  came  in  at  the  door,  but 
there  was  enough  of  it,  for  the  sun  was  now  well 
up,  and  his  pleasant  rays  were  shining  brightly 
among  the  tops  of  the  forest  trees,  to  tell  of  the 
coming  day.  It  would  be  a  good  while  before  he 
could  climb  high  enough  to  shine  down  upon  the 
ice  of  the  pool,  or  to  look  in  at  the  hole  in  the  front 
of  the  cabin. 

The  fire  was  now  going  so  well  that  it  was  warm 
work  to  stand  near  enough  to  turn  the  bacon  so  it 
would  be  done  on  both  sid^.  At  last  it  was  cooked 
finely  and  was  spooned  off,  so  that  its  place  in  the 
saucepan  might  be  taken  by  spats  of  corn  pone, 
deftly  sleighted  in  by  Nancy,  with  one  hand  shield- 
ing her  pretty  face  from  the  fire.  She  was  not  dark 
and  sallow,  like  her  brother  Abe.  There  were  roses 
in  her  cheeks,  and  there  was  a  perpetual  laugh 
lurking  away  back  in  her  bright  blue  eyes. 

There  were  other  plates  to  which  the  cakes  and 
bacon  might  be  earned,  but  there  was  no  breakfast- 
table  in  that  house.  Instead  of  one,  there  was  an 
affair  which  may  have  been  planned  for  a  frontier 

16 


THE    NEIGHBORS 

sofa,  but  which  would  do  to  lay  plates  on.  A  very 
wide  slab  of  black  walnut  had  been  smoothed  on 
its  flat  side.  Into  its  other  side  auger-holes  had 
been  bored  to  receive  crooked  wooden  legs,  of 
nearly  but  not  quite  the  same  lengths,  and  the  table, 
or  sofa,  had  received  no  further  improvements.  At 
all  events,  it  was  not  likely  to  break  down,  and  the 
three  housekeepers  were  soon  gathered  around  it. 
The  fact  was  that  almost  precisely  such  a  morning 
meal  was  at  that  hour  being  prepared  in  thousands 
of  frontier  houses,  and  eaten  without  butter,  sugar, 
or  milk. 


17 


CHAPTER   II 

GREAT    COMFOET 

I  HE  fire  was  dancing  merrily,  and  more 
sticks  had  been  put  on,  for  the  one 
luxury  which  was  almost  unstinted  at 
that  homestead  was  first-rate  firewood.  The  room 
was  warm,  and  there  was  even  light  enough,  al- 
though the  shutters  over  the  window-holes  had  not 
been  lifted.  Breakfast  was  over  and  Nancy  was 
clearing  away  the  dishes.  Two  of  the  plates  were 
of  pewter,  and  another  was  of  earthenware.  There 
were  also  glimpses  of  shining  tin  upon  the  shelf, 
and  there  was  a  big,  sheet-iron  "  Dutch  oven  "  in 
a  corner.  The  floor  looked  as  if  a  little  sweeping 
would  do  it  no  harm,  but  it  did  not  get  any.  It  con- 
sisted of  pounded  clay,  which  had  been  hardened 
by  time  and  by  the  treading  of  many  feet  until  it 
was  as  hard  as  "  adobe,"  if  not  quite  so  smooth. 

The  chairs  upon  which  the  children  had  been  seated 

18 


GREAT  COMFORT 

were  three-legged  stools,  wliicli  were  strong  enough 
to  uphold  the  heaviest  person.  When  a  log  of  wood 
is  split  through  lengthwise  and  the  faces  of  the 
halves  are  trimmed  flat,  they  become  "  puncheons," 
and  are  available  for  a  variety  of  purposes.  The 
tables  and  chairs  in  this  house  were  all  made  from 
puncheons. 

"  Come  on,  Denny,"  said  Abe ;  "  it's  time  for 
you  an'  me  to  go  an'  feed  the  shoats.  Jest  hear 
*em  squeal ! " 

"  Reckgn  I  heard  'em  callin'  for  corn,"  replied 
Dennis ;  "  but  they  can  go  down  to  the  pool  an' 
root  for  their  own  water." 

"  They  don't  care  to  wallow  in  it  in  winter- 
time, anyhow,"  said  Abe.  "  Father  says  he'll  have 
it  railed  in  before  spring.  Then  the  shoats'll  have 
to  go  all  the  way  to  the  other  pool." 

"  That's  what  we  may  have  to  do,  if  this  one 
dries  up,"  said  Nancy,  "  but  I  do  jest  hope  it  won't. 
What  WQ  need  is  a  spring  or  a  well." 

The  time  for  that  clearing  to  own  so  great  an 

improvement  as  a  deep  hole  in  the  earth,  with  a 

windlass  and  a  bucket,  had  evidently  not  yet  come, 

19 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

and  the  nearest  running  water  was  almost  a  mile 
from  the  house. 

Abe  and  Dennis  set  out  at  once  in  the  direction 
of  the  impatient  summons  which  was  now  sound- 
ing incessantly.  It  came  from  away  at  the  left,  in 
the  edge  of  the  woods,  and  the  path  to  it  carried 
them  past  the  second  specimen  of  forest  architec- 
ture which  had  been  seen  from  the  pool.  It  was  a 
curious  affair.  The  roof  was  almost  as  good  as 
that  of  the  house  itself.  Three  sides  had  been 
roughly  made  of  logs,  but  the  front,  of  bark  and 
poles  and  slabs,  appeared  to  tell  that  the  builders 
had  been  in  a  hurry  or  had  wearied  of  so  much 
heavy  log-work.  There  was  an  open  doorway  in 
the  middle,  but  windows  there  were  none,  and 
there  was  no  chimney.  If  ever  a  fire  had  been 
kindled  inside  of  that  thing,  instead  of  out  in  front 
of  the  door,  the  smoke  had  to  find  its  own  way 
out.  The  pole-shelter  promised  protection  from  the 
weather,  but  no  comfort,  unless  it  might  be  for  a 
picnic  party  in  summer.  It  was  only  a  little  better 
than  such  "  camps  "  as  trappers  and  hunters  were 

in  the  habit  of  constructing  for  the  headquarters  of 

20 


GREAT  COMFORT 

considerable  parties  who  were  not  going  home 
very  soon. 

"  That's  where  aunt  an'  uncle  Sparrow  used  to 
live,  before  the  milk-sick  came,"  said  Abe  thought- 
fully.   "  They're  gone,  now.    So  is  mother." 

Dennis  made  no  reply  whatever,  but  Abe  turned 
his  head  as  he  walked  on  and  seemed  to  be  looking 
away  off  among  the  trees.  He  could  not  see  them, 
but  at  no  great  distance,  hidden  from  him  by  the 
tree  trunks,  were  three  low  mounds  of  earth  upon 
which  the  frost  was  resting  whitely.  That  these 
mounds  were  there  accounted  for  the  fact  that 
neither  the  log  house  nor  the  pole-shelter  contained 
at  this  time  a  father  or  a  mother,  and  that  the  three 
children  were  alone  in  the  woods. 

"  Come  on,  Abe ! "  shouted  Dennis.  "  Jest  look 
at  'em ! " 

The  shoats,  as  he  called  them,  were  about  thirty 
in  number,  besides  a  lot  of  smaller  ones.  Any 
four-legged  hog  may  aspire  to  that  title  if  he  is 
big  enough  to  kill;  but  a  human  being  has  been 
known  to  consider  it  a  grave  offense  when  another 
called  him  a  shoat.     Those  that  were  here  were 

21 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

making  all  this  fuss  around  an  octagonal  structure 
of  chestnut  rails  about  fifteen  feet  high.  A  little 
farther  on  was  another  like  it,  and  beyond  that  an- 
other. The  reason  why  the  squealers  were  here, 
and  not  there,  though  all  were  full  of  corn,  was  that 
for  the  present  this  was  the  crib  from  which  they 
were  in  the  habit  of  receiving  their  morning  and 
evening  supplies.  Whenever  this  should  disap- 
pear, they  would  transfer  their  hopes  and  their 
squealing.  In  putting  up  such  a  crib,  it  is  only 
necessary  to  fence  in  the  ground  breast-high  at 
first.  When  that  hollow  is  filled  up,  more  rails  may 
be  put  on,  successively,  until  the  walls  are  too  high 
to  pitch  corn  over  them  easily  from  a  wagon,  or 
until  the  corn  on  hand  is  all  in.  In  like  manner, 
the  upper  rails  may  be  dropped  off  as  the  corn  is 
fed  out.  It  is  the  most  complete  and  readily  made 
corn-crib  in  all  the  world,  with  the  one  defect  that 
it  is  open  at  the  bottom  for  any  kind  of  corn-eating 
animal  which  can  burrow  under  or  squeeze  in  be- 
tween the  rails,  or  that  can  gnaw  in  the  soft  chest- 
nut wood,  or  any  other,  a  hole  large  enough  to  let 

him  out  after  he  has  eaten  his  dinner  and  increased 

22 


GREAT  COMFORT 

his  size.  There  are  many  marauders  with  these 
capacities  in  the  neighborhood  of  all  Western  corn- 
fields. 

The  two  boys  went  up  the  side  of  the  corn-crib 
like  a  pair  of  squirrels,  and  in  a  moment  more  their 
cloven- footed  charges  were  contending  with  one  an- 
other for  the  first  long,  yellow  ears  that  were  thrown 
to  them.  They  were  a  long-nosed,  high-backed 
company,  of  the  kind  that  in  after-times,  when  im- 
proved stock  began  to  come  in,  received  the  ugly 
name  of  "  timber-sharks."  It  was,  indeed,  a  num- 
ber of  long  years  before  shoats  received  any  better 
care  than  this.  During  spring  and  summer  they 
were  permitted  to  range  the  woods  for  a  living ;  in 
the  autumn  they  might  even  grow  fat  upon  beech- 
nuts and  acorns,  but  only  such  favored  individuals 
as  were  penned  up  for  "  fall  killing  "  received  any 
com  before  winter.  There  was  one  curious  conse- 
quence of  this  kind  of  farming.  While  in  a  state 
of  nature,  uninvaded  by  white  settlers,  the  Western 
wilderness  abounded  with  snakes.  Among  these 
were  the  large  "timber  rattlesnakes,"  that  never 
came  out  on  the  prairies ;  and  with  them  were  their 
3  23 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

cousins,  the  copperheads.  There  were  also  mas- 
sauga  rattlesnakes,  shorter  and  of  a  different  color, 
that  preferred  the  prairie,  and  were  rarely  found 
in  the  woods.  Black  snakes,  milk  snakes,  adders, 
and  other  varieties  were  in  liberal  supply,  but  they 
all  were  soon  to  become  things  of  the  past.  They 
were  to  vanish  like  the  red  men  themselves,  and  the 
land  they  had  lived  in  was  to  become  almost  as 
free  of  reptiles  as  Ireland  is  said  to  be.  It  is  not 
that  a  shoat  has  any  kind  of  innate  enmity  for  a 
serpent,  but  that  one  is  to  him  a  kind  of  delicacy. 
He  will  root  for  one,  chase  him  down,  dance  on  him 
in  the  strangest  manner  until  he  is  dead,  and  then, 
copperhead  or  massauga,  will  tear  him  up  and  eat 
him  as  if  he  were  something  better  than  oysters. 
It  is  said  that  no  hog  was  ever  known  to  be  hurt 
by  a  snake-bite.  At  all  events,  one  of  the  oddest 
sights  to  be  anywhere  obtained  is  that  of  an 
excited  porker,  back  arched  high  and  bristling, 
eyes  flashing,  teeth  clashing,  fiercely  grunting,  and 
springing  up  and  down  to  strike  a  wriggling,  strug- 
gling serpent  with  his  sharp-rimmed  hoofs. 

There  was  nothing  of  that  sort  for  the  boys  to 

24 


GREAT    COMFORT 

see,  this  morning.  All  the  reptiles  in  that,  or  any 
other  timber,  were  sound  asleep  among  whatever 
rock  ledges  or  swamps  they  had  chosen  for  their 
cold-weather  refuges. 

It  was  a  sharp  bit  of  work  to  throw  over  com 
enough  for  so  many  eaters,  and  to  scatter  it  so  that 
each  of  them  might  obtain  a  fair  share.  There  is 
no  kind  of  good  manners  or  unselfishness  or  respect 
for  the  rights  of  others  among  hungry  timber- 
sharks.  It  was  all  done  at  last,  however,  and  the 
boys  were  free  to  come  down  and  make  their  way 
back  to  the  house.  Nevertheless,  no  boys  of  their 
age,  or  somewhat  more,  ever  did  go  home  in  a 
straight  line.  Not  in  a  forest,  anyhow,  nor  in  a 
city  where  there  were  blocks  to  go  around — if  there 
might  be  anything  worth  seeing  on  the  other  side  of 
one  of  those  blocks. 

There  was  little  underbrush  to  impede  strolling. 
There  rarely  is  in  an  old  forest,  for  bushes  do  not 

thrive  well  among  great  roots  or  under  too  much 

shade.    There  was  a  vast  amount  of  winter  beauty 

in  all  directions,  and  it  was  as  handsome  as  if  there 

had  been  snow  on  the  ground,  while  the  fact  that 

25 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

there  was  no  snow  at  all  made  walking  in  mocca- 
sins as  easy  as  if  they  had  been  wearing  boots.  As 
Abe  remarked: 

"  Snow's  the  wust  thing  thar  is  'bout  winter — 
that  is,  if  it's  deep.  Onless  thar's  been  a  good  thaw 
an'  a  freeze,  so  thar's  a  crust." 

"  That's  the  time  for  deer,  too,"  replied  Dennis. 
"  They  break  through  the  crust,  an'  you  could 
a'most  take  'em  alive  if  you  wanted  to." 

"  You  can  f oiler  'em  easy,  then,"  said  Abe ; 
"  but  I  tell  you  what,  that  Injin  that  was  here 
last  winter,  on  his  snowshoes,  didn't  need  any 
crust.     He  could  jest  go  it,  fast,  on  top  o'  the 


snow." 


"  But  if  you  break  in  on  a  drift  in  them  snow- 
shoes,"  said  Dennis,  ''  it'll  take  you  pretty  nigh  all 
day  to  climb  out." 

"  No,  it  won't,"  said  Abe.  "  You  can  take  'em 
off  an'  put  'em  on  ag'in.  But  one  thing  I  wonder 
is,  whar  all  the  b'ars  find  holler  trees  enough  to 
sleep  in  through  the  winter." 

"  Well,"  responded  Dennis,  after  a  moment  of 
profound  consideration,  "  don't  you  reckon  thar's 

26 


GREAT  COMFORT 

as  many  trees  with  holes  in  'em  as  thar  is  b'ars  that 
have  got  to  find  holes  1 " 

"  Dunno,"  replied  Abe,  with  a  wise  shake  of  his 
head.  "  But  father  killed  six  of  'em  last  winter. 
He  says  thar's  about  as  many  of  'em  as  thar  ever 
was,  but  painters  are  gittin'  scurse." 

"  That's  so,"  said  Dennis.  "  I  saw  one,  once, 
but  he  was  makin'  off  on  a  lope  an'  I  didn't  git  but 
one  look.  They  jump  the  awfullest  kind  o'  long, 
springy  jumps,  an'  they  can  'light  down  from  away 
up  a  tree,  right  down  onto  a  feller,  when  he  isn't 
lookin'  for  'em." 

"  I  don't  want  one  of  'em  to  'light  onto  me ! " 
exclaimed  Abe.  "  They  can  scratch  any  kind  of 
human  all  to  pieces." 

There  were  plenty  of  things  to  talk  about,  as 
the  two  companions  wandered  hither  and  thither 
among  the  oaks.  There  were  maples  also,  but  not 
many  along  their  line  of  march,  and  the  woods  con- 
tained an  abundance  of  hickory  and  walnut,  chest- 
nut, beech,  birch,  and  the  boys  themselves  told  of 
groves  of  buckeye,  butternut,  and  endless  copses 

of  the  nut-bearing  hazel.     More  than  one  fright- 

27 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

ened  rabbit  sprang  away  as  tliey  drew  near  the 
place  where  he  had  been  sitting,  and  twice  they 
were  agreeably  startled  by  the  sudden  whir  of  par- 
tridge wings.  That  is,  the  boys  called  them  by  that 
name,  when  they  were  nothing  but  bevies  of  fat 
quails. 

"Hark!"  suddenly  shouted  Abe.  "Did  you 
hear  that!" 

"  Rifle !  "  shouted  back  Dennis,  as  if  he  feared 
that  Abe  was  too  far  away  to  hear  him  unless  he 
veiled.    "  Some  feller's  out  after  deer." 

"  'Wav  off  vonder,"  said  Abe ;  "  so  fur  vou 
can't  but  jest  hear  him." 

ATlien  the  woods  are  still,  the  crack  of  a  rifle 
may  be  heard  at  a  considerable  distance,  but  trees 
and  rocks  will  carry  echoes  around,  and  it  is  not 
alwavs  easv  to  determine  the  direction  from  which 
a  report  originally  came.  If  a  gun  is  fired  at 
one  end  of  a  deep  ravine,  the  sound  of  it  may 
insist  upon  coming  out  only  at  the  opposite  ex- 
tremity of  the  rocky  hollow,  in  a  very  deceptive 
manner. 

"  He  didn't  shoot  ag'in,"  said  Dennis.     "  He 

28 


GREAT    COMFORT 

had  to  stop  an'  load  Mebbe  'twas  a  deer,  but  it 
might  ha'  been  a  tnrkey." 

"  Or  a  painter,"  snggested  Abe.  "  Bnt  let's  yon 
and  I  light  ont  for  home.  Oh,  don't  I  wish  I  had 
a  rifle!" 

"  Yon  conldn't  do  mnch  with  it  if  yon  had  one," 
sarcastically  responded  Dennis.  "  If  I  was  a  deer, 
I'd  sit  still  for  ve." 

Abe  had  hardlv  annhing  to  sav  ia  defense  of 
his  marksmanship,  for  Dennis  was  able  to  mention 
more  than  one  occasion  when  he  had  seen  him  miss ; 
bnt  they  were  now  in  sight  of  the  house,  and  the 
pigs  had  ceased  their  sqnealing,  as  if  aware  that 
there  was  no  hope  of  more  corm 

Dnring  all  this  time  Nancy  had  been  attending 
to  varions  household  duties.  She  had  even  been  out 
to  the  wood-pile  for  more  fuel,  and  the  fire  was  in 
fine  condition.  It  made  the  room  look  even  pleas- 
ant while  she  washed  and  arranged  and  rearranged 
the  limited  supply  of  crockery  and  pewter.  She 
paid  some  attention  to  her  rippling  mass  of  tangled 
hair,  but  did  not  appear  to  have  any  needlework  on 

hand.    After  that,  she  did  a  little  sweeping  with  a 

29 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

rude  broom  made  of  hickory  twigs,  but  it  did  not 
do  a  great  deal  of  good  to  that  earthen  floor.  As 
for  the  walls  of  the  room,  they  were  nothing  but 
rough  logs  with  the  bark  on.  The  cracks  between 
the  logs  had  been  stopped  with  tempered  clay  in- 
stead of  mortar.  Against  them,  in  one  place,  had 
been  fastened  a  fine  pair  of  deer  antlers,  from 
which  a  bullet-pouch  and  powder-horn  were  hang- 
ing, as  if  to  tell  strangers  what  such  hooks  were 
there  for.  On  another  side  of  the  room  a  similar 
pair  of  hunting  trophies  sustained  a  long,  wooden- 
handled  "whipsaw,"  which  accounted  for  the  fact 
that  the  ceiling  overhead  was  composed  of  sawed 
boards.  There  was  a  large  box  in  a  conier ;  it  had 
no  lid,  and  it  evidently  contained  carpenter's  tools, 
such  as  a  broadax,  an  adz,  a  small  saw,  and  some 
hammers  and  chisels.  There  was  no  grindstone  to 
be  seen,  and  a  too  careful  observer  might  have  won- 
dered how  those  tools  were  to  retain  their  edges. 
Perhaps  they  did  not  always  do  so.  There  was  but 
one  bed  to  be  seen.  It  was  at  the  right  of  the  door- 
way, and  far  enough  from  the  fire  to  be  safe  from 

sparks  which  might  now  and  then  shoot  out  at  it 

30 


GREAT  COMFORT 

spitefully,  and  fall  only  a  little  more  than  half-way. 
If  any  spark  had  succeeded  in  reaching  the  bed,  it 
would  have  fallen  upon  some  blankets  which  cov- 
ered a  huge  bag  filled  with  corn-husks.  These  made 
a  soft  bed,  to  be  sure,  and  the  frame  which  upheld 
them  was  a  strong  one.  Forked  stakes  had  been 
driven  into  the  earth  at  proper  distances,  and 
poles  from  these  to  chinks  in  the  wall  sustained 
slats  of  sawed  timber  upon  which  the  bag  of  corn- 
husks  rested.  As  for  the  height  of  it  all,  nobody 
would  ever  have  been  injured  by  falling  out  of 
that  bed. 

AVhen  her  small  housework  was  done,  Nancy 
walked  slowly  out  and  stood  in  front  of  the  house. 
There  was  not  anything  wonderful  for  her  to  see, 
but  she  looked  inquiringly  in  all  directions,  as  if 
she  were  searching  for  something  in  which  she 
might  be  interested.  There  were  the  stumps,  but 
now  the  white  frost  had  disappeared  from  them, 
and  the  open  and  the  bare,  plowed  ridges  were  not 
at  all  attractive.  Beyond  them  were  the  gloomy 
trunks  and  the  stiff -looking,  leafless  branches  of  the 

forest  trees.    In  among  these  there  could  not  be 

31 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

anything  hidden  which  might  induce  a  bright  girl 
of  less  than  thirteen  to  go  and  seek  for  it.  There 
was  certainly  a  great  deal  of  dulness  in  such  a  life 
as  hers.  It  may  be  that  a  hungry  expression  which 
crept  into  her  face  had  for  its  real  meaning  a  long- 
ing— ^longing  for  the  company  of  other  girls  and 
for  something  better  than  a  log-house  home.  Then 
she  turned  and  walked  all  the  way  around  the  house, 
pausing  for  a  moment  to  look  up  at  the  chimney, 
almost  as  if  she  had  never  seen  it  before.  It  was 
a  big,  clumsy  affair,  and  it  was  all  outside  of  the 
wall  of  logs,  except  at  the  bottom,  but  it  was  never- 
theless a  pretty  good  chimney  and  could  carry  away 
any  amount  of  smoke. 

"I've  seen  houses  with  two  stories,"  she  said, 
half  aloud,  "  an'  some  of  'em  were  painted.  I'd 
like  to  live  in  such  a  house,  an'  have  neighbors.  I 
wish  more  settlers  would  come.  I  wish  we  had 
some  cows  an'  some  horses.  I  wish  we  had  some 
chickens  an'  some  ducks.  I'd  like  to  feed  'em, 
myself." 

It  did  seem  hard  that  so  very  moderate  an 
amount  of  riches  should  be  denied  her,  but  the  only 

32 


GREAT  COMFORT 

poultry  in  all  that  region,  so  far  as  she  knew,  were 
the  wild  turkeys  in  the  woods,  for  all  the  other  wild 
fowl  larger  than  a  quail,  all  the  ducks  and  geese 
and  brant,  had  gone  south  for  their  cold-weather 
vacations.  They  would  return  in  the  spring,  when 
the  bears  were  waking  up  and  walking  out  of  their 
hollows,  and  when  the  buds  were  beginning  to  swell 
upon  the  trees. 

Nancy's  walk  carried  her  around  to  the  front  of 
the  house  again,  and  just  as  she  reached  the  door- 
way she  turned  suddenly  and  listened.  Then  her 
face  brightened  into  a  smile,  for  here  had  arrived 
a  real  incident,  something  unusual  and  unexpected, 
to  break  in  upon  the  dull  monotony  of  that  lonely 
clearing  in  the  wilderness. 

"  It  came  from  over  yonder ! "  she  exclaimed, 

motioning  with  her  hand.    "  No,  it  didn't.    It  was 

over  that  way.    Somebody  is  out  thar,  huntin'.    I 

wonder  who  it  is.    I  didn't  want  anybody  to  shoot 

those  three  deer  at  the  pool.    I  knew  a  girl,  once, 

that  had  a  tame  deer,  an'  those  three  looked  as  if 

they  were  a'most  tame." 

She  went  into  the  house  to  throw  a  stick  of  wood 

33 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

on  the  fire,  and  when  she  hurried  out  again  she 
could  see  Abe  and  Dennis  coming  along  the  edge 
of  the  woods.  Both  of  them  were  turning  their 
heads  frequently,  for  they  were  anxious  to  hear  an- 
other report  from  that  rifle,  as  soon  as  it  could  be 
properly  loaded,  primed,  and  aimed  at  another  deer, 
or  at  the  same  deer,  if  he  had  not  been  entirely 
killed. 

"  Thar  they  come,"  she  said.  "  Mebbe  they  can 
tell  somethin'  about  it.  Like  as  not  they  saw  some- 
body out  in  the  woods.  They  were  gone  long 
enough.    I'd  like  to  see  some  one." 

Hundreds  of  thousands  of  people  at  that  hour 
were  as  eager  for  the  morning  news  as  was  Nancy, 
but  she  was  not  to  obtain  any  right  away,  as  so 
many  of  them  would;  for  when  the  boys  came  in 
they  were  only  able  to  tell  her  that  they  had  heard 
the  gun,  and  that  they  believed  they  had  caught  a 
glimpse  of  a  very  large  wild  turkey,  at  a  distance, 
entirely  out  of  range  of  the  guns  which  they  wished 
they  had  had  with  them. 

Still  all  three  of  them  were  several  degrees  more 

cheerful  and  happy,  and  the  bright  November  day 

34 


GREAT  COMFORT 

was  pleasanter  while  they  talked  about  hunters  and 
hunting,  and  wondered  whether  or  not  any  wander- 
ing sportsman  would  come  along  in  sight  of  that 
house,  carrying  home  a  deer. 


35 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  HUNTER 

jJHE  horse  was  a  small  one.  He  was  very 
black  and  very  fat,  but  currycomb  and 
brush  had  never  been  near  neighbors 
of  his,  and  it  was  almost  as  if  he  had  put  on  a  coat 
of  furzy  fur  on  account  of  the  cold  weather.  That 
is  precisely  what  large  numbers  of  animals  and 
some  human  beings  are  in  the  habit  of  doing.  He 
was  bridled  and  haltered,  but  he  bore  no  saddle. 
Instead  of  that,  he  carried  the  carcass  of  an  un- 
commonly large  buck.  Only  a  glance  would  have 
been  needed  to  reassure  Nancy  that  this  was  not 
the  pretty  creature  she  had  prevented  Abe  from 
shooting  at  the  margin  of  the  pool,  if  he  had  had 
his  father's  rifle  with  him,  for  there  were  six  tines 
upon  his  antlers  instead  of  five. 

The  man  who  strode  along  at  the  side  of  the 
horse  was  tall  and  strongly  built,  and  would  have 

been  a  white  man  if  his  weather-beaten  face  had  not 

36 


THE   HUNTER 

become  so  nearly  copper-colored.  It  had  probably 
been  pretty  dark  in  the  first  place,  for  his  hair  was 
densely  black,  as  his  long,  tangled  beard  and  mus- 
tache would  have  been  if  time  and  weather  had  not 
taken  all  the  color  out  of  them  and  left  them  snow 
white.  He  was  a  vigorous  looking  old  fellow,  and 
would  have  appeared  several  inches  taller  if  there 
had  not  been  such  a  stoop  in  his  broad  shoulders. 
As  for  his  outfit,  he  did  not  have  anything  on  him 
which  had  not  been  made  long  ago  of  buckskin, 
with  the  single  exception  of  his  cap.  This  had  been 
so  skilfully  manufactured  from  the  fur  of  an  otter 
that  an  earl  might  have  coveted  it.  The  rifle  in  his 
hand  was  a  long-barreled,  well-kept  weapon,  and  at 
his  belt  was  a  long  knife,  resting  in  a  leather  sheath. 
With  some  effort  the  fat  pony  was  able  to  keep  up 
with  him,  and  they  came  out  into  the  clearing  to- 
gether. The  man  was  a  little  ahead,  and  it  should 
have  been  concerning  him  that  the  young  people 
at  the  house  made  their  first  remarks,  but  it  was 
not  so. 

Dennis  alone  was  outside  at  that  moment,  and  he 

shouted : 

37 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

"  Hurrah,  Abe !  that  pony's  got  a  deer  on  him. 
Come  out  an'  see  him !  " 

It  was  not  Abe,  however,  but  Nancy  herself  who 
hurried  out  next. 

"  Oh !  "  she  exclaimed,  "  I  hope  it  isn't  the  one 
that  was  in  the  bushes." 

"  Don't  care  if  it  is,"  said  Abe,  as  he  dropped 
something  to  spring  away  after  her.  "  But  I  reck- 
oned that  rifle  was  shot  off  on  t'other  side  o'  the 
clearin'.    Hallo !    I  know  who  that  is." 

"  He  got  him,  anyhow,"  said  Dennis,  "  an'  he's 
comin'  right  in." 

So  he  was,  and  he  was  pulling  steadily  on 
the  halter  of  the  pony  until  he  reached  the  pool 
and  allowed  the  animal  to  pause  for  a  drink  of 
water. 

"  That's  old  man  Sansom,"  said  Abe.  "  He's 
from  over  nigh  Big  Pigeon  Creek.  They  say  he 
got  that  stoop  in  his  shoulders  when  he  was  young, 
because  he  didn't  build  his  house  high  enough  an' 
couldn't  stand  up  in  it  without  batting  his  head. 
He's  a  good  shot,  an'  he  used  to  fight  the  Injins. 
Killed  heaps  of  'em.    He  was  down  to  the  fight  at 

38 


THE    HUNTER 

New  Orleens,  too,  an'  he  shot  some  o'  the  British. 
Father  knows  him,  first-rate." 

"  I  heard  him  tell  all  about  him,"  said  Nancy. 
"  He  was  with  General  Harrison,  too,  and  he  can 
talk  all  day  'bout  the  wars  and  Injins,  if  he  can  git 
anybody  to  sit  still  and  listen  to  him." 

"  Eeckon  I'd  sit  still,"  said  Abe,  "  an'  he  could 
talk  all  night.  Thar,  he's  comin'  right  along  now. 
It's  a  buck.    I  can  see  the  horns." 

There  was  no  time  for  any  further  discussion 
of  old  man  Sansom,  for  he  and  his  pony  were 
quickly  within  speaking  distance.  Then  a  wide 
opening  suddenly  appeared  between  the  white 
mustache  and  the  beard,  and  a  stentorian  voice 
called  out: 

"  Oh,  Abe,  is  that  you?    Whar's  your  Pop?  " 

"  Pop's  gone  to  Kentucky,"  shouted  back  Abe, 
"  but  I  reckon  it's  nigh  a'most  time  he  was  back 
ag'in.    He  didn't  let  on  what  he  was  goin'  for." 

"  Ye  don't  say ! "  replied  old  man  Sansom,  his 

voice  keeping  up  its  pitch  fairly  well  as  he  plodded 

on.    "  Wal,  I  kind  o'  reckon  I  know  what  he  had  on 

his  mind.    You'll  all  know  more  when  he  gits  yere. 

4  39 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

I  went  out  after  meat,  yerly  this  mornin',  an'  I 
didn't  have  no  kind  o'  luck  till  I  tramped  'way 
over  yon,  'mong  the  buckeyes  by  the  ravine.  Thar 
I  knocked  over  this  buck,  an'  I  was  torn  down  glad 
I  had  a  boss  along.  I  was  too  fur  from  home  to 
ha'  toted  him,  an'  I  hadn't  any  ax  to  make  a  drag, 
but  he's  been  makin'  me  travel  mighty  slow  all  day. 
I'll  come  on  in,  an'  while  you  an'  Nancy  are  fryin' 
some  bacon  I'll  cut  up  part  o'  the  buck  an'  we'll 
have  some  fresh  meat.  I'm  powerful  holler,  an'  I 
want  to  fill  up." 

This  was  only  ordinary  backwoods  hospitality, 
for  every  man's  fireside  belonged  to  all  his  neigh- 
bors, and  anything  like  a  refusal  of  such  an  offer  as 
that  had  never  been  heard  of  in  those  parts.  Nancy 
tripped  back  into  the  house,  while  Abe  and  Dennis 
lingered  to  see  with  what  rapid  dexterity  Sansom 
could  take  off  the  hide  of  a  deer,  horns  and  all. 

"  Tell  ye  what  I'll  do,"  he  said  to  them,  after 

the  job  was  partly  done.    "  I'll  divide,  an'  leave  ye 

the  forequarters.    I  may  strike  another  on  the  way 

home.    Most  likely  I  will,  for  the  woods  is  full  on 

'em;  or  a  turkey.    I'd  ruther  have  a  turkey,  an' 

40 


THE    HUNTER 

they're  gittin'  kind  o'  shy.  They  most  ginerally  do 
at  this  season  of  the  year,  or  at  any  other  time. 
Thar !  I'll  take  off  some  f ryin'  cuts,  an'  we'll  go  on 
into  the  house.  Glad  you've  got  sech  a  prime  good 
fire  a-goin' ;  jest  fit  to  grill  by." 

Noon  had  not  yet  arrived,  but  the  first  smell  of 
broiling  venison  appeared  to  make  Nancy  and  the 
two  boys  hungry ;  or  else  they  caught  it  from  San- 
som,  and  it  was  a  wonder  how  much  that  mighty 
hunter  was  able  to  do  away  with,  including  the  corn 
pone  that  Nancy  fried  for  him.  If  he  were  to  be 
a  regular  boarder  anywhere,  it  would  be  well  for 
that  house  that  game  should  be  plentiful  in  its 
neighborhood,  and  that  his  luck  should  be  good  in 
going  after  it. 

"  So ! "  he  at  length  exclaimed,  as  he  came  to 
what  seemed  a  kind  of  resting-place  between  two 
cuts  of  venison.  "  You  reckon  old  man  Linkin'U 
be  home  to-morrer,  or  next  day,  or  the  day  after? 
I  hope  he  will.  Wal,  I  don't  feel  like  settin'  out  for 
home  right  away.  I'll  go  out  an'  give  that  pony 
a  feed  o'  corn,  an'  then  I'll  come  back  an'  sit  down 
awhile.    I  jest  do  like  to  see  some  boys  an'  gals 

41 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

around.  All  o'  mine  are  grown  up.  Some  on  'em 
are  livin'  with  me,  an'  some  on  'em  are  gone  off." 

While  he  was  talking  he  was  fishing  out  from 
some  place  of  hiding  among  his  buckskins  a  pipe 
bowl  made  from  the  butt  end  of  a  huge  corn-cob. 
With  it  came  a  six-inch  cut  of  reed  for  a  stem,  and 
a  yellow  twist  of  home-grown  tobacco,  which  he 
proceeded  to  shred  with  his  long  knife.  The  pipe 
was  filled  and  lighted  with  a  coal  from  the  fire, 
and  then  out  he  went,  blowing  great  blue  clouds 
of  smoke.  It  was  evident  that  he  was  feeling  in  a 
first-rate  mental  and  bodily  condition. 

"  Jest  think,"  said  Abe,  as  soon  as  he  was  gone, 
"  of  how  many  British  an'  Injins  that  man  has  put 
under !  Game,  too.  Tell  you  what,  when  he  comes 
in,  let's  poke  questions  an'  make  him  talk." 

It  was  an  idea  which  appeared  to  suit  Dennis 
and  Nancy  perfectly,  and  it  soon  began  to  look  as 
if  a  kind  of  conspiracy  were  being  concocted  for  the 
purpose  of  opening  a  well-known  storehouse  of  old 
yams. 

In  all  the  talk  about  Sansom  there  was  a  sound 
of  older  wisdom  than  might  have  been  expected 

42 


THE    HUNTER 

from  them,  but  it  was  true  to  nature.  All  lonely 
human  bemgs  long  for  company  and  for  fresh  talk, 
while  the  young,  even  more  than  the  old,  are  all 
the  time  ready  for  story-tellers. 

The  pony  was  duly  fed,  and  then  a  cloud  of 
tobacco-smoke,  with  a  stoop-shouldered  hunter 
under  it,  came  striding  back  to  the  house  as  if  it 
and  he  were  in  a  hurry  to  get  there.  There  was  a 
vast  amount  of  smiling  good-humor  in  his  bronzed 
face.  The  expression  of  it  appeared  to  say  for  him 
that  he  was  as  much  pleased  with  his  unexpected 
visit  as  if  he  had  shot  a  whole  gang  of  deer,  and 
some  turkeys. 

"  Sech  a  day  as  this,"  he  told  them,  "  and  after 
a  feller's  been  out  in  the  woods,  thar  isn't  anything 
more  to  my  likin'  than  to  sit  down  by  a  good  blaze, 
if  you've  fetched  along  your  pipe  an'  tobacker. 
The  first  pipe  I  ever  had  was  give  to  me  by  an 
Injin.  He'd  hollered  it  out  o'  red  clay  an'  cooked  it 
in  a  fire,  an'  it  was  a  real  good  one.  I  kep'  it  till 
I  went  down  to  New  Orleens  with  Jackson,  an'  thar 
it  got  broke.  It'd  got  pretty  black  by  that  time. 
Abe,  did  you  know  that  the  British  wore  red  coats  I 

43 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

They  did ;  but  not  all  on  'em.  I  seen  some  in  blue, 
an'  I  shot  one  o'  them.  When  I  was  a-sittin'  on  the 
top  o'  the  breastwork,  in  the  battle,  it  was  right 
smoky  for  good  shootin',  too,  but  we  fetched  'em. 
Sorry  we  had  to  kill  so  many  on  'em.  I  don't  want 
to  ever  see  any  more  war." 

Half  a  dozen  questions  jumped  out  at  him  at 
once  from  his  eager  listeners,  and  one  of  them  hit 
him  so  that  he  answered  it. 

"  No,  Abe,"  he  said,  "  I  don't  reckon  they  had 
any  Americans  with  'em.  No  Tories,  like  they 
would  have  had  in  the  old  Revolutionary  War.  My 
father  was  in  that,  all  through,  an'  I've  heard  him 
tell  about  the  Tories.  But  down  at  Orleens  it  wasn't 
so.  I  reckon  they  had  English  an'  Irish  an'  Scotch 
an'  Injins.  Red  Stick  Creek  Injins  an'  niggers 
from  the  West  Injies." 

"Why,"  interrupted  Dennis,  "will  niggers 
fight?    Do  folks  ever  make  real  soldiers  of  'em?  " 

"  Wal,  they  do,"  said  Sansom,  knocking  the 

ashes  out  of  his  pipe  and  beginning  to  shred  off 

more  tobacco  from  his  yellow  twist.  "  I  had  cur'ous 

notions,  once,  'bout  black  men  an'  Injins.    I  was 

44 


"Are  black  fellers  the  suine  kind  o'  human  that  folks  are  V  " 


THE    HUNTER 

bom  'way  down  the  Mississippi  River,  an'  thar  was 
hardly  any  free  niggers  'round ;  nothin'  but  slaves. 
I  used  to  see  'em  bought  an'  sold,  jest  like  so  many 
critters.  That  way  I  got  an  idee  that  they  wasn't 
jest  human  an'  hadn't  any  souls,  an'  it  was  right  to 
treat  'em  jest  the  same  as  other  critters.  So  with 
Injins,  for  the  Red  Stick  Creeks  was  'round  after 
our  skelps  all  the  while,  an'  that's  how  I  kem  to  keer 
mighty  little  'bout  shootin'  down  a  redskin." 

"  Wal,"  said  Abe  thoughtfully,  "  do  you  reckon 
that  Injins  an'  black  fellers  are  the  same  kind  o' 
human  that  folks  are — white  folks  1 " 

"  Yes,  they  are !  "  exclaimed  Nancy.  "  I  know 
some  of  'em  that  are  first-rate  people,  an'  it's  wrong 
to  kill  'em." 

"  Nancy's  right,"  said  the  old  man,  raking  out 
some  coals  to  light  his  pipe  by.  "  Niggers  have 
souls.  A  nigger's  a  human ;  I  found  that  out  long 
ago.  Why,  tell  ye  what:  when  I  stepped  down 
behind  the  breastwork,  thar  at  New  Orleens,  to  load 
up  for  another  shot,  jest  alongside  o'  me  was  the 
blackest  feller  you  ever  saw.  He'd  fired,  an'  he 
was  a  loadin',  too,  same  as  I  was,  an'  his  face  was 

45 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

all  grit  an'  pluck,  an'  jest  beyond  him  was  a  big 
mulatter;  an'  when  I  turned  an'  looked  the  other 
way,  my  next  neighbors  were  a  round  dozen  o'  full- 
blooded  Choctaw  Injins.  We  had  French  Creoles, 
too,  an'  Spaniards,  an'  a  lot  of  out-an'-out  pirates 
from  Barrataria,  an'  we  were  as  much  mixed  as  the 
British  were." 

"  Pirates !  "  shouted  Abe,  as  if  he  had  suddenly 
found  something.  "  I  say,  what's  a  pirate  1  I  never 
heard  of  'em.    What  are  they  like  1 " 

He  had  unintentionally  opened  a  new  well  that 
was  as  deep  as  any  war,  for  Sansom's  replies  soon 
let  out  the  fact  that  in  his  earlier  days  he  had 
actually  crossed  the  Atlantic  on  a  trader.  He  had 
seen  one  edge  of  England,  and  touched  the  shores 
of  other  islands.  He  had  seen  big  merchant  ships 
and  men-of-war,  all  sorts,  with  wonderful  masts 
and  sails  and  cannon.  He  had  heard  forecastle 
yarns,  and  had  accumulated  a  whole  handful  of 
tales  about  pirates.  He  appeared  to  have  an  idea, 
however,  that  they  were  only  the  Eed  Stick  Creeks 
of  the  sea.  They  were  to  be  exterminated,  but  after 
all  they  were  a  kind  of  human,  with  probable  souls. 

46 


THE    HUNTER 

"Let's  brile  some  more  deer-meat,"  he  said  at 
the  end  of  one  of  his  best  and  longest  yarns.  "  I 
feel  kind  o'  holler  ag'in.  I  reckon  I  can  fetch  down 
another  buck  on  my  way  home.  All  I  want  o'  this 
one  is  the  hind  half,  anyhow,  an'  we'll  cut  some  from 
that  this  time.    It's  a  big  one." 

It  was  getting  on  into  the  afternoon,  and  the 
long  shadows  that  now  reached  out  into  the  clearing 
were  ca§t  by  the  western  trees.  Sansom  himself 
went  out  to  the  wood-pile  for  a  new  backlog  for  the 
fire,  and  he  selected  a  thick  cut.  He  rolled  it  in, 
and  the  three  young  people  stood  by  and  wondered 
at  him  when  he  poked  forward  the  glowing  remains 
of  the  old  stick,  that  he  might  actually  pick  up  this 
one  and  lift  it  over  the  tops  of  the  andirons  as  if 
doing  so  cost  him  hardly  any  exertion. 

"  He's  awful  strong  I "  remarked  Abe.  "  It 
takes  a  heap  o'  pork  an'  deer  an'  wild  turkeys  an' 
pone  to  keep  him  up.  I  reckon  thar  ain't  many  men 
that  could  ha'  h'isted  that  log  the  way  he  did." 

He  had  rebuilt  their  fire  for  them,  at  all  events, 
and  was  minded  to  leave  a  warm  house  behind 
him ;  but  when  he  had  broiled  and  eaten  his  slices 

47 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

of  venison  and  had  taken  one  more  smoke,  lie  arose, 
and  said  it  was  time  for  him  to  get  out  his  pony 
and  go  home. 

"  'Tisn't  so  very  far,"  he  told  them,  "  for  me, 
but  it's  a  good  push  for  the  hoss.  Besides,  if  I'm 
to  git  any  chance  at  another  deer,  I  mustn't  wait 
till  thar's  too  much  shadder  in  the  woods." 

The  middle  part  of  his  first  prize  was  mostly 
gone,  but  the  forequarters  were  hung  against  the 
side  of  the  house,  and  the  hindquarters  were  se- 
cured once  more  upon  the  back  of  the  pony.  Then 
Sansom  took  the  halter  and  began  to  pull.  The 
pony  followed  him,  and  he  shouted  back : 

"  Abe,  when  your  father  gits  in  you  tell  him  I 
was  yere,  an'  that  I'm  comin'  over  to  see  him  pretty 
soon.  Tell  him  to  come  over,  an'  to  fetch  along  his 
rifle.    We'll  go  out  after  deer  together." 

He  turned  away,  and  the  last  they  heard  was  a 
discontented  grumble : 

"  It's  kind  o'  rough  that  a  hoss  can't  walk  off  as 
fast  as  a  man  can.  It  kind  o'  hinders  a  feller,  some- 
times, when  he's  in  a  hurry." 

It  occurred  to  Abe,  and  he  said  so,  that  the  best 

48 


THE    HUNTER 

remedy  for  such  an  evil  would  be  to  get  a  horse 
with  longer  legs — as  long,  for  instance,  as  were 
those  of  old  man  Sansom  himself.  In  a  few  min- 
utes more  the  pony  and  his  legs,  and  even  his  rider, 
or  rather  leader,  were  utterly  forgotten.  Abe  ap- 
peared to  be  thinking  of  something  of  a  serious 
character,  and  both  Dennis  and  Nancy  became 
strangely  silent.  Then  each  of  the  three  picked  up 
a  stool  and  went  and  sat  down  in  front  of  the  fire, 
staring  into  it  as  if  they  half  expected  to  see  some- 
thing among  the  coals  and  ashes  or  sitting  upon 
the  backlog.  There  was  really  nothing  to  be  seen 
in  the  fire,  nothing  but  wild,  red  shapes  which  arose 
and  danced  and  sparkled  and  disappeared.  All  be- 
hind them,  however,  the  room  was  swarming  with 
stories,  stories,  stories.  So  were  the  forest  and  the 
clearing  out  yonder.  Away  off  westward,  more- 
over, was  the  Mississippi  River,  into  which  the 
Ohio  poured,  and  down  which  old  man  Sansom  had 
floated  on  a  flatboat,  when  he  went  with  General 
Jackson  to  fight  the  British  army.  Away  off,  east- 
ward, there  were  cities,  some  of  which  he  had  seen, 
with  wonderful  streets  that  he  had  walked  in.    Be- 

49 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

yond  them  were  great  waves  of  the  ocean,  break- 
ing into  foam  ujDon  rocky  shores  and  carrying  over 
all  the  world  the  ships  which  the  pirates  were  hunt- 
ing for,  to  rob  them  and  to  murder  everybody  on 
board  of  them.  It  had  been  a  remarkable  day,  and 
it  seemed  to  them  to  be  a  kind  of  double-made  af- 
fair, that  was  both  short,  too  short,  and  very,  very 
long. 

They  could  hardly  have  told  which  of  them  was 
first  to  break  the  stillness ;  then  one  after  another, 
speaking  low  and  slowly  at  first,  and  then  more  and 
more  excitedly,  they  began  to  go  over  the  strange 
things  which  had  been  told  them.  Other  tales  which 
they  had  heard  came  creeping  in,  with  such  curious 
modifications  of  their  original  shapes  as  were  made 
by  young  memories  and  the  manner  of  the  relating. 
It  has  often  been  noted  of  even  much  older  nar- 
rators than  they,  that  both  fiction  and  what  is  called 
history  will  assume  new  shapes  in  the  telling. 
There  have  been  two  entirely  authentic  histories  of 
the  same  nation,  by  different  authors,  which  bore 
only  a  distant  family  resemblance  to  each  other. 
However,  if  there  had  been  three  voices  at  the  be- 

50 


THE    HUNTER 

ginning  of  that  fireside  talk,  there  was  shortly  only- 
one,  since  Abe  could  remember  and  could  tell  ten 
for  one  of  the  stories  which  were  recalled  and  told 
by  the  others. 

The  shadows  without  deepened  into  starlit  dark- 
ness, and  within  the  house  there  was  only  firelight, 
for  candles  and  lamps  were  an  all  but  unattainable 
luxury  for  most  of  the  dwellers  in  the  backwoods. 

"  Reckon  old  Sansom's  got  home  by  this  time," 
remarked  Dennis ;  "  but  you  couldn't  lose  him  in  the 
woods,  nohow." 

"He  can't  see  in  the  dark,"  said  Nancy,  "no 
more'n  anybody  else  can." 

"  That's  the  reason  why  he  shoved  right  along 
an'  got  thar,"  replied  Abe.  "  What  I'd  like  to  know 
is  if  he  knocked  over  another  deer.  Jest  the  meat 
he  had  on  that  pony  wouldn't  last  him  long." 

"  I  don't  keer,"  said  Nancy.  "  Let's  go  to  bed. 
I'm  tired." 

So  they  all  were,  for  they  had  a  feeling  that  they 
had  been  performing  a  tremendous  day's  work ;  but 
the  going  to  bed  was  a  peculiar  affair.  The  bed  in 
that  room  belonged  to  Nancy,  and  there  did  not  ap- 

51 


UBRARY 

UNivEFsnnr  of  iwm^ 


THE    BOY    LINXOLN 

jDear  to  be  any  other,  nor  were  there  stairs  which 
might  lead  up  to  an  upper  story  of  the  house,  if 
there  had  been  one.  In  the  corner  at  the  left  of  the 
fireplace,  however,  stout  pegs  had  been  driven  into 
holes  in  the  logs,  and  above  these  there  was  a  wide 
hole  in  the  planks  of  the  ceiling,  or  rather  in  the 
boards  of  the  floor  of  the  garret.  Abe  and  Dennis 
only  waited  to  heap  abundant  ashes  ujDon  the  coals 
of  the  fire  and  the  front  of  the  backlog,  and  then  up 
they  went,  Dennis  first,  and  then  Abe.  It  was  peg 
after  peg,  and  they  climbed  that  queer  flight  of 
frontier  stairs  as  if  it  were  all  that  could  be  ex- 
pected by  them.  They  were  now  in  a  kind  of  garret, 
to  which  there  was  no  other  window  than  the  hole 
in  the  floor  through  which  they  had  entered  it,  and 
by  which  a  limited  amount  of  firelight  seemed  now 
to  be  following  them,  as  if  to  ascertain  what  they 
were  about  to  do  up  yonder.  It  was  done  at  once, 
for  down  they  went  upon  bags  of  corn-husks  made 
narrower  than  the  one  on  the  lower  floor.  Night- 
gowns were  not  to  be  expected,  and  small  prepara- 
tion  was   required   before   they   were   under   the 

blankets.    They  were  by  no  means  uncomfortable, 

52 


THE    HUNTER 

and  were  sure  not  to  freeze,  for  all  day  long  warm 
air  had  been  coming  up  at  the  hole.  Even  now  the 
entire  garret  was  finely  perfumed  for  them  with  the 
rich  odors  of  broiling  venison  and  frying  bacon. 

If  anybody  had  been  there  to  watch  them,  he 
might  soon  have  noted  that  while  Dennis  was  evi- 
dently sound  asleep,  Abe  was  restless,  turning  over 
every  now  and  then  as  if  there  were  a  disturbance 
in  his  mind.  There  really  was  not  any.  Nothing 
unusual  was  in  his  head,  except  British  and  Indians 
and  black  men  and  pirates,  and  some  rivers  and 
oceans  with  ships  sailing  on  them  among  islands 
and  cities — stories,  stories,  stories ;  but  at  last  these 
began  to  run  into  one  another,  becoming  dreadfully 
mixed,  and  then  his  eyes  closed  and  they  all  were 
ended. 

Down-stairs,  or  down  pegs,  Nancy  was  all  alone. 
She,  too,  did  not  immediately  go  to  sleep.  It  was 
better  to  lie  and  watch  the  dull  glow  which  crept 
out  through  openings  in  the  ash-heap  over  the 
coals,  and  to  see  what  strange  shapes  would  now 
and  then  follow  one  another  along  the  walls  or  flit 
across  the  rough  boards  overhead.     The  door  of 

53 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

the  cabin  had  been  carefully  closed,  but  it  had 
neither  bar  nor  lock.  A  wind  had  risen  and  was 
moaning  among  the  forest  trees.  It  walked  across 
the  clearing  and  all  around  the  house,  whistling  at 
the  corners.  It  made  an  attempt  to  whistle  to  her, 
not  only  through  the  door  but  down  the  chimney. 
She  had  heard  winter  winds  doing  that  before,  and 
it  did  not  disturb  her  much  now. 

"Do  hear  it,"  she  muttered,  sleepily.  "  Winter 
'fore  last  thar  came  a  harricane,  an'  it  jest  howled, 
an'  it  tried  to  h'ist  the  roof  off  the  house.  It  didn't, 
but  it  blew  down  three  big  hickories  that  were  out 
in  the  open,  an'  Pop  sawed  'em  up.  He  said  that 
thar  wind  saved  him  jest  so  much  choppin'." 

This  wind  that  was  now  blowing  was  no  hurri- 
cane. It  was  ready  to  serve  as  a  slumber-maker, 
and  before  long,  as  Nancy  listened  to  its  whistling 
and  sighing,  she  closed  her  eyes  and  forgot  even 
about  Sansom  and  his  histories. 


54 


CHAPTER  ly 


THE  FOUR-HORSE  TEAM 


|ANCY  slept  soundly  the  next  morning, 
and  when  she  did  wake  up  it  was  be- 
cause something  startled  her.  It  was 
a  great  glow  of  red  light  that  struck  her  in  the  face, 
and  she  sat  bolt  upright,  exclaiming : 

"  Oh,  somethin's  on  fire !  Oh,  yes,  the  boys 
are  up." 

She  should  have  said  that  Dennis  and  Abe 
were  down.  They  had  begun  their  day  by  piling 
branches  and  bark  on  the  fire  with  as  little  noise 
as  might  be,  and  had  gone  off  to  the  pool  after  a 
bucket  of  water.  Neither  of  them  had  offered  a 
word  of  explanation  for  the  care  they  had  taken 
against  wakening  Nancy,  and  the  true  reason  was 

that  they  had  no  particular  excuse  for  it  what- 
5  55 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

ever.  It  was  just  a  notion,  such  as  comes,  thou- 
sands of  times,  into  the  heads  of  the  careless  and 
unthinking. 

Nancy  was  on  her  feet  in  a  moment,  and  began 
her  duties  as  housewife. 

"  I  must  have  breakfast  for  'em  as  soon  as  I 
can  after  they  come  in,"  she  said.  "  Thar's  water 
enough  in  the  skillet  to  mix  the  pone." 

There  was  only  just  about  enough,  without  wa- 
sting any  of  it  for  mere  toilet  purposes,  and  Nancy 
actually  began  to  sing  as  she  stirred  the  meal  into 
it  for  the  required  soaking.  She  had  a  clear,  mu- 
sical voice  and  a  good  ear,  but  it  appeared  as  if 
the  songs  with  which  she  was  familiar  were  mostly 
scraps  and  snatches  of  old  camp-meeting  hymns. 
There  were  strange  lilts  and  melodies  in  some  of 
them,  and  one  which  she  sang  over  and  over  had 
a  weird  refrain  which  told  of  the  camps  and  shan- 
ties of  the  colored  people.  It  did  not  altogether 
belong  in  that  house,  and  so  its  plaintive  music 
went  out  at  the  open  door  and  away  among  the 
stumps  and  across  the  furrows  to  meet  the  boys  as 
they  came  homeward,  lugging  between  them  a  full 

56 


THE    FOUR-HORSE    TEAM 

bucket  of  water  and  wishing  that  the  pool  were 
nearer  the  house. 

"Hear  that?"  said  Dennis.  "Wish  I  could 
sing  like  her;  but  I  can't." 

"  I  can't,  neither,"  said  Abe.  "  Mother  could, 
when  she  was  alive.  I  never  heard  anybody 
that  could  sing  like  her.  Sis  makes  me  think 
of  her." 

Very  likely  there  was  a  sound  of  the  mother's 
voice  in  the  daughter's,  but  it  was  something  that 
old  man  Sansom  had  carelesslv  said  that  made 
Nancy  herself  think  and  sing  as  she  did  that  morn- 
ing. He  had  only  half  said  it,  and  then  he  had 
stopped,  but  he  had  used  the  word  "  mother,"  and 
she  thought  she  had  also  heard  the  word  "  com- 
ing," but  was  not  sure.  Anyhow,  it  had  come 
back  to  her  while  she  was  mixing  the  pone,  and 
all  the  songs  she  had  been  remembering  had  been 
taught  her,  long  ago,  by  a  voice  that  was  now 
silent. 

She,  too,  became  silent  at  the  end  of  that  last, 

sweet,  mournful  melody.     She  stood  still,  looking 

into  the  fire. 

57 


« 


THE    BOY    LIXCOLN 

Wish  I  had  a  mother,"  she  said.  "  Other  girls 
have  mothers." 

Nothing  in  all  her  hjTiins  had  been  so  pitifully 
plaintive  as  was  that.  Her  lips  were  quivering,  and 
there  was  a  deep  shadow  on  her  rosy  face.  She 
looked  around  her.  There  was  not  much  in  the 
house,  and  she  had  never  been  accustomed  to  a 
gi'eat  many  things  which  are  as  necessaries  of  life 
to  millions  of  other  girls.  The  one  most  important 
thing  which  was  not  there,  however,  was  the  pres- 
ence of  a  woman,  a  mother.  Xo  answering  voice 
came  to  her  out  of  the  silence  and  the  wilderness. 
In  a  long  minute  more  the  boys  and  their  bucket 
were  at  the  door. 

"  Hallo,  Sis !  "  said  Abe ;  "  let's  have  some  deer- 
meat  this  time.  It'd  come  good.  Glad  the  fire's 
all  right;  we  fixed  it." 

"  You  go  an'  cut  it,"  she  said.  "  I  must  watch 
the  pone.  I  reckon  it's  goin'  to  be  a  real  bright, 
sunshiny  day." 

"  Reckon  'tis,"  said  Dennis,  "  but  we  didn't  sight 

a  sign  of  any  deer  down  thar  this  mornin'.     Old 

Sansom  may  ha'  skeered  'em  off." 

58 


THE    FOUR-HORSE    TEAM 

"  He  couldn't,"  said  Abe.  ''  Thar's  mighty  little 
huntin'  goin'  on  jest  now.  The  "woods  are  full  o' 
game.    Wait  till  Pop  gits  home." 

The  venison  was  quickly  ready  for  cooking. 
After  all,  it  was  a  pretty  good  breakfast  for  young 
people  who  had  never  known  anything  better,  and 
who  were  almost  contented  with  what  they  had. 
After  it  was  eaten,  the  pigs  were  to  be  fed,  as  usual, 
and  after  that  all  that  remained  was  the  nothing- 
to-do  kind  of  life  which  belongs  to  the  backwoods 
in  winter,  when  all  the  leaves  are  dead  and  the  frost 
is  on  the  ground. 

Nancy  did  not  sing  again,  except  now  and  then 
a  low  ripple  of  sound  which  began  and  died  away, 
but  Abe  sat  down  by  the  fire  and  tried  to  tell  over 
again  some  of  the  wonderful  things  which  old  man 
Sansom  had  told  them  the  day  before.  He  suc- 
ceeded pretty  well  with  them,  while  Dennis  and 
Xancy  listened,  now  and  then  making  comments 
and  corrections.  They  were  glad  to  have  him  tell 
ahead,  hit  or  miss,  for  it  was  something  to  while 
away  the  time  and  make  the  day  appear  not  quite 
so  heavy  and  long.    The  fact  was  that  among  the 

59 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

shadows  in  that  house  was  one  which  was  not  made 
by  the  firelight.  It  was  larger  and  darker,  and  at 
the  same  time  brighter,  than  any  of  the  others.  It 
was  not  all  one  shadow,  either,  for  it  was  composed 
of  several  which  were  twisted  and  woven  in  to- 
gether. Part  of  it  was  only  a  kind  of  "  waiting  " 
for  somebody,  a  father  who  was  about  to  come  back 
at  the  end  of  a  fortnight's  absence.  Another  part 
of  it  was  "  doubt,"  and  still  another  was  a  vague 
and  dreamy  "  expectation."  No  set  of  boys  and 
girls  in  all  the  world  ever  awaited  the  return  of  a 
father  from  a  long  absence,  in  another  State  and 
across  a  great  river,  without  wondering  and  won- 
dering, and  asking  inside  questions  of  themselves 
as  to  what  he  might  possibly  bring  with  him.  It 
might  be  a  wagonload,  certainly,  and  there  was  no 
sort  of  guessing  what  would  be  in  the  wagon,  if 
it  came. 

Noon  came  first,  and  it  looked  as  if  this  day 
also  might  pass  and  get  away  precisely  as  so  many 
others  had  done.  Not  a  word  about  the  shadow 
had  been  spoken  by  either  Nancy  or  the  boys,  but 

every  now  and  then  one  of  them  would  half  turn 

60 


THE    FOUR-HORSE    TEAM 

and  look  at  a  kind  of  break  among  the  trees  on  the 
southerly  side  of  the  clearing.  It  was  an  opening 
which  had  been  made  by  axes,  for  at  that  point 
something  like  a  crooked,  ram's-hom  sort  of  road 
began  to  lose  itself  in  the  woods.  There  were 
wheel  tracks  in  it,  but  these  were  barely  deep 
enough  to  mark  a  plain  trail.  It  was  the  only 
highway  leading  into  or  out  of  that  clearing.  By 
and  by  first  Nancy,  and  then  Abe  and  Dennis, 
began  to  wander  slowly  in  that  direction.  They 
had  almost  reached  the  place  where  the  road  escaped 
from  the  forest  around  a  huge  stump,  when  a  loud, 
shrill  shout  came  to  their  ears,  and  the  next  moment 
they  heard  the  same  voice  calling  out: 

"  Come  on,  Sal !  Come  on,  Tilly !  I  reckon 
we're  a'most  thar.  I  sighted  a  clearin*;  I  know  I 
did.    We'll  be  thar  right  soon,  now.'* 

"  0  John !  "  called  back  another  voice.  "  .Wait 
for  Matilda  an'  me." 

"  Hold  on,  children !  "  commanded  somebody  yet 

farther  on,  and  there  was  a  thrill  running  all  over 

Nancy  when  she  stepped  forward,  exclaiming : 

"  Boys,  did  you  hear  that?    It's  a  woman." 

61 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

It  had  been  long  since  the  echoes  of  that  forest 
had  listened  to  the  music  of  a  half -anxious  cry  of 
a  mother  to  her  children.  Whatever  else  it  was  to 
Nancy,  however,  it  was  also  startling  both  to  her 
and  the  two  boys.  They  did  not  go  forward  a  step 
farther,  but  stood  still,  and  stared  first  at  each 
other  and  then  at  the  crooked  road  before  them.  It 
was  not  much  of  a  road,  to  be  sure,  but  then  it  was 
about  to  bring  them  something  that  was  entirely 
unexpected.  Then  they  began  to  retreat  slowly 
toward  their  house,  as  if  this  were  entirely  too 
much  for  them.  They  walked  with  turned  heads, 
nevertheless,  and  it  was  only  a  few  minutes  before 
Abe  gave  a  sudden  jump.  Dennis  whistled,  and 
Nancy  exclaimed: 

"Boys,  it's  John  Johnston  an'  the  girls. 
Come  on ! " 

Abe  did  not  utter  a  word,  but  sprang  away  to 
meet  the  newcomers,  who  were  evidently  old  ac- 
quaintances, and  the  others  were  at  his  heels.  The 
boy  member  of  the  arriving  party  was  nearest, 
of  course,  and  he,  too,  was  now  quickening  his 

paces. 

62 


SAEAH   BUSH   LINCOLN. 
After  a  pliotognipli  takeu  in  1865. 


THE    FOUR-HORSE    TEAM 

"  Hallo,  Abe ! "  he  shouted,  as  soon  as  he  was 
near  enough.  "  Is  this  your  clearin'  1  Mother  an' 
the  waggin  are  right  back  thar.    She's  comin'." 

"  Whar's  my  Pop  ?  "  inquired  Abe.  "  An'  what 
on  earth  fetched  you  all  out  here?  I'm  torn  down 
glad  you  came." 

"Why,  Abe,"  replied  the  nearest  of  the  girls, 
"your  father's  gone  an'  married  my  mother,  an' 
we're  all  come  out  here  to  live  with  you.  It's  a 
four-hoss  wagon." 

Just  at  that  moment  they  all  might  see  the  team 
she  spoke  of,  pulling  the  wagon  out  into  the  open. 
The  man  who  walked  at  the  head  of  it  was  appar- 
ently in  a  doubtful  state  of  mind,  for  he  was  lash- 
ing the  ground  discontentedly  with  his  whip  and 
muttering  to  himself: 

"  This  'ore's  the  Linkin  farm,  is  it?  Alu'  yon- 
der's  the  house,  an'  thar  ain't  no  bam  behind  it. 
Thar's  a  good  patch  o'  cleared  land,  but  this  isn't 
jest  what  Sally  Bush  Johnston  was  told  of  when 
she  married  Tom  Linkin.  My  team's  pretty  nigh 
used  up,  too,  haulin'  the  waggin  over  this  bush- 
whackin'  kind  o*  road.    'Pears  like  it  was  laid  out 

63 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

by  a  sick  snake,  an'  then  he  died.  Tom  did  crawl 
in  a  long  way  'mong  the  woods  'fore  he  settled. 
But  she's  got  to  stick  to  her  barg'in  now." 

Abe  had  been  remarking  of  him: 

"  That's  old  man  Krume.    I  used  to  know  him." 

"Yes,"  responded  one  of  the  Johnston  girls, 
"that's  his  team,  an'  he  was  real  good,  but  he's 
been  a-growlin'  an'  a-growlin'  all  the  way." 

"  Glad  we've  got  here,  anyhow,"  said  the  other 
Johnston  girl.    "  I'm  tired." 

Abe  and  Dennis  and  Nancy  appeared  to  be  a 
little  more  than  willing  to  lead  the  way  to  the 
house,  and  to  postpone  as  long  as  they  might  what- 
ever more  was  yet  to  come.  The  wagon  was  com- 
ing. There  was  a  woman  in  it,  and  a  man  was 
walking  beside  it,  and  Mr.  Krume  was  ahead  of  it ; 
but  the  whole  picture  of  that  arrival  would  not  have 
been  complete  if  some  strange  spirit  of  curiosity 
had  not  crept  into  the  sagacious  heads  of  Mr.  Tom 
Lincoln's  drove  of  shoats.  Every  cloven  hoof  of 
them  marched  out  to  the  edge  of  the  woods,  and 
there  they  were  now,  looking  gravely  on  and  occa- 
sionally grunting  or  squealing  to  each  other  the 

^4 


THE    FOUR-HORSE    TEAM 

sentiments  which  had  been  aroused  within  them  and 
which  they  could  not  otherwise  express. 

"  Here  we  are,  Sally !  "  said  the  man  beside  the 
wagon,  but  no  immediate  reply  was  made,  and  she 
was  looking  inquiringly  at  the  house. 

"  This  is  the  place,"  he  said.  "  It  can  be  made 
a  right  good  one." 

"  I  see,"  she  replied  wearily.  "  Anyhow,  the 
children  are  takin'  to  each  other  right  away. 
They've  always  been  kind  o'  like  cousins.  But  I 
jest  want  to  git  a  look  into  that  thar  house." 

His  face  fell,  and  he  did  not  appear  to  have  any- 
thing more  to  say  just  then.  Krume  and  the  team 
plodded  onward  until  he  pulled  them  in  close  in 
front  of  the  doorway,  and  Mr.  Lincoln  helped  his 
wife  to  get  down.  She  did  not  go  in  at  once,  how- 
ever, for  here  were  all  the  young  people,  crowding 
around  her,  and  there  were  three  pairs  of  timid, 
wistful,  hopeful  eyes  looking  up  into  her  own. 
There  were  even  tears  in  those  of  Nancy.  Abe  was 
nearest,  and  his  new  mother  stooped  to  put  her 
arms  around  him  and  kiss  him.    Hardly  had  she 

done  so  before  Nancy's  own  arms  were  around  her 

65 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

neck  and  her  kiss  also  was  given.  Then  came  Den- 
nis ;  but  Krume  was  muttering : 

"All  right.  Reckon  they've  kind  o'  beat  her. 
But  if  -I  ain't  mistaken,  she  was  gittin'  some  mad 
'bout  this  'ere  turnout.  I  remember  she  was  always 
mighty  fond  of  Abe.  She  liked  the  gal,  too.  Den- 
nis has  growed  a  good  bit  since  I  saw  him.  Thar'U 
be  eight  on  'em  in  one  small  house !  " 

The  total  count  for  that  night  promised  to  be 
nine.  Krume  unhitched  his  horses  to  lead  them 
away  for  water  and  corn,  and  the  eight  he  left  be- 
hind him  were  very  busy  immediately.  The  fire 
was  doing  its  best  to  make  things  look  cheerful, 
and  Abe  explained  to  his  father  how  there  came  to 
be  so  much  fresh  venison  on  hand. 

"Wait,"  said  Mrs.  Lincoln,  when  Nancy  hur- 
riedly produced  the  saucepan  and  Dennis  began  to 
rake  out  some  coals  to  put  it  on.  "  I  must  git  some 
o'  my  things  out  o'  that  wagon.  I'm  gwine  to  make 
this  place  a  little  more  fit  for  human  bein's  to  live 
in.  Tom,  you  jest  take  hold  an'  unload.  Git  out 
the  table  first,  an'  the  box  o'  dishes.    Now,  if  I  don't 

set  you  to  work  on  this  place  you  may  shoot  me !  " 

66 


THE    FOUR-HORSE    TEAM 

There  was  no  lack  of  muscle  in  him,  and  there 
was  hardly  anything  in  the  wagon  that  he  could  not 
have  lifted  out  single-handed.  All  the  things  called 
for  were  coming  down  and  out,  however,  as  if  he 
were  already  under  pretty  good  discipline  and  ex- 
pected to  obey  the  orders  of  his  commander.  Abe 
made  himself  as  busy  as  a  bee,  and  so  did  his  sis- 
ter; but  Dennis  preferred  to  keep  out  of  every- 
body's way  and  to  ask  endless  questions  of  the 
Johnston  girls,  while  John  Johnston  walked  out 
and  around  the  house  to  see  just  how  much  there 
might  be  of  it. 

Well  might  the  young  Lincolns  and  Dennis 
stare  as  they  did !  That  four-horse  wagon  was  as 
a  mine  of  wealth,  and  their  eyes  opened  wide  with 
astonishment  while  treasure  after  treasure  was 
carefully  uncovered  and  carried  into  the  house.  A 
good-sized  table  was  set  down  at  once  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  floor.  Upon  this  there  shortly  appeared 
an  array  of  plates,  cups,  saucers,  and  actually  a 
lot  of  two-tined  forks.  Those  of  three  tines,  or 
made  of  anything  costlier  than  steel,  were  as  yet 
among  the  wild  dreams  of  the  luxurious  future 

67 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

which  was  one  day  to  come  to  that  part  of  the 
United  States.  There  were  spoons  of  several  kinds 
and  sizes,  and  there  were  kettles  and  other  cooking 
utensils.  The  three-legged  stools  might  not  at  once 
be  thrown  aside,  but  Mrs.  Lincoln  had  brought  with 
her  a  full  set  of  substantial  chairs  to  place  around 
her  table.  She  was  now  ready  to  proceed  with 
cookery,  while  her  husband  took  down  and  brought 
in  a  large  and  heavy  chest,  which  Matilda  Johnston 
asserted  was  full  of  clothing  and  blankets ;  but  her 
sister  Sarah  added,  with  unmistakable  pride : 

"  Sho !  the  big  bureau,  out  thar  in  the  wagon,  's 
got  a  heap  more  into  it  than  the  chist  has." 

No  more  unloading  and  placing  was  done  right 
away,  for  Mr.  Krume  had  come  in,  and  he  had  ex- 
pressed his  gratification  at  the  abundance  and  good 
quality  of  the  dinner  which  was  preparing  for  him. 
He  became  better  tempered  the  moment  he  pulled  a 
chair  to  the  table  and  sat  down  before  a  plate,  with 
the  choice  given  him  whether  he  would  load  it  with 
bacon  or  venison  cutlets.  All  the  rest  sat  down, 
but  two  of  them  were  on  stools  after  all  the  chairs 

were  occupied.    Then  Mrs.  Lincoln  paused  for  a 

68 


THE    FOUR-HORSE    TEAM 

moment,  bowing  her  head  and  shutting  her  eyes. 
She  did  not  utter  a  word,  but  they  all  knew  what  it 
meant  and  followed  her  example.  It  was  a  good 
promise  for  the  future  of  that  rough  log  house  and 
its  family  that  the  real  head  of  the  concern  was 
willing  to  thank  God  for  it,  even  if  it  was  not  ex- 
actly what  she  had  expected.  It  could  not  be  said 
that  she  had  openly  complained,  and  after  dinner 
the  work  of  unloading  and  furnishing  began  again. 
The  old  forked-stick  bedstead  was  taken  up  and 
put  down  again  farther  along,  and  its  place  in  that 
comer  was  taken  by  a  well-made  affair  with  the 
right  kind  of  bedding.  The  puncheon  table  in  the 
opposite  corner  was  to  remain  for  a  while,  and 
the  box  of  carpenter's  tools  was  drawn  near  it,  to 
make  room  for  a  truly  magnificent  chest  of  drawers 
whose  weight  and  value  had  required  the  united 
strength  of  Krume  and  Tom  Lincoln  to  carry  it  in 
from  the  wagon  without  dropping  it.  Sarah  John- 
ston told  Abe  that  it  was  worth  more  than  forty  dol- 
lars, and  he  knew  that  that  was  about  half  the  price 
of  a  good  new  farm,  trees  and  all,  with  uncleared 
land  at  a  dollar  and  a  quarter  an  acre.     It  was  im- 

69 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

possible  for  Mrs.  Lincoln  to  go  up-stairs  by  the  pegs 
on  the  wall,  but  she  was  told  all  about  it,  and  sev- 
eral articles  of  bedding  went  up  there,  with  a  num- 
ber of  other  things  for  which  there  was  no  room 
below. 

"  Thar,  Tom,"  said  Mr.  Krume  at  last,  "  I've 
done  the  best  I  could  for  you  an'  Sally  Bush.  What 
I  want  now  is  to  git  away  early  to-morrer  mornin', 
so  I  can  reach  the  ferry  an'  cross  the  river  'fore 
dark.  Tell  ye  what,  though,  you  an'  she  are  gwine 
to  have  right  smart  o'  work  a-gittin'  settled  down 
to  live  in  this  here  clearin'." 

He  went  to  the  door  and  looked  out  in  all  direc- 
tions. Tom  Lincoln  followed  him  and  made  the 
same  kind  of  surv^ey,  but  there  was  really  not  one 
more  word  to  be  said  about  it  just  then. 


70 


CHAPTER   V 

THE  NEW   HOME 

I  HE  fire  was  burning  well  tliat  evening. 

All  the  newly  made  family  and  Mr. 

Krume  sat  in  front  of  it.  As  for  Abe, 
he  had  pulled  one  of  the  three-legged  stools  a  little 
behind  his  new  mother,  and  there  he  sat,  now  and 
then  looking  earnestly  up  into  her  face.  After  each 
long  look  at  her  he  would  turn  and  stare  around 
the  room.  It  was  not  at  all  the  place  it  had  been, 
although  the  bare  log  walls  were  there.  For  the 
first  time  in  his  life  he  was  beginning  to  obtain 
ideas  concerning  wealth  and  splendor  and  magnifi- 
cence. Besides,  he  had  been  near  when  Mrs.  Lin- 
coln was  giving  her  husband  a  long  list  of  instruc- 
tions as  to  material  improvements  which  he  was  to 
make  right  away.  Abe  could  hardly  believe  his 
ears,  but  among  other  things  which  were  meekly 

promised  had  been  a  complete  puncheon  floor  over 
6  71 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

the  pounded  clay  level ;  a  new  door,  properly  made, 
fitted,  and  hung;  real  sash  and  glass  windows  that 
would  let  the  light  in  and  keep  out  the  wind ;  a  door 
at  the  rear,  and  also  a  lean-to,  whether  of  logs  or 
boards ;  and  a  wood-pile  a  number  of  yards  nearer 
the  house.  He  was  dreaming  about  the  beauty  of 
a  puncheon  floor,  when  Mrs.  Lincoln  arose,  went  to 
the  bureau,  unlocked  its  lower  drawer,  and  took  out 
the  largest  book  he  had  ever  seen. 

"  It's  about  time  to  go  to  bed,"  she  said.  "  I'll 
read  a  chapter  before  we  go.  Thar  ain't  gwine  to 
be  any  heathen  in  this  house." 

She  put  the  book  on  the  table,  opened  it,  and 
then  she  suddenly  turned  to  Abe  and  said  to  him, 
pointing  with  her  finger : 

"  Jest  do  you  read  that  aloud,  Abe." 

Abe  stared  at  the  big  black  letters,  but  he  could 
make  nothing  at  all  out  of  them,  and  he  whispered 
back  despondently: 

"  I  can't  do  it,  nohow." 

"Why?"  she  said;  "you  went  to  school  over 
in  Kentucky." 

"  Yes'm,"  he  said.    "  I  went  to  Caleb  Hazel  an' 

72 


THE    NEW    HOME 

Zach  Riney,  but  I  didn't  git  so  far  as  readin'.  I 
can  pick  out  the  letters,  though." 

"  Then,"  she  exclaimed  emphatically,  "  'bout  the 
next  thing  you'll  do  is  to  go  to  school,  if  thar  is  one 
'round  here.  I  can  show  you  a  good  many  things 
myself.    It's  time  you  knew  how  to  read." 

The  chapter  in  the  Bible  was  reverently  read. 
Krume  and  all  the  boys  went  up-stairs  by  the  pegs. 
When  they  came  down  next  morning,  although  it 
was  very  early,  they  found  Mrs.  Lincoln  already  at 
work,  with  three  girls  to  help  her,  or  to  hinder,  and 
the  house  was  getting  to  rights  rapidly.  The  four- 
horse  team  and  wagon  were  at  the  door  soon  after 
breakfast,  and  then,  amid  a  shower  of  tlianks  for 
his  kindness,  Mr.  Krume  drove  away  into  the 
crooked  thoroughfare  which  was  to  take  him  to  the 
ferry  across  the  Ohio  River.  He  had  not  quite 
reached  the  entrance  of  it  when  he  asserted : 

"  Thar'll  be  a  mighty  sight  more  o'  Tom  Linkin 
an'  them  youngsters  after  they've  all  been  under 
the  care  o'  Sally  Bush  for  a  while." 

There  was  not  a  doubt  of  it.  That  very  morn- 
ing she  found  time  to  question  not  only  Abe,  but 

73 


THE    BOY   LINCOLN 

Dennis  and  Nancy,  as  to  what  they  knew  or  did  not 
know.  It  was  somewhat  apparent,  however,  that 
her  heart  was  going  out  especially  toward  the  slim, 
tall  boy,  who  could  hardly  keep  away  from  her  long 
enough  to  go  out  after  wood.  One  variation  came 
when  he  took  his  new  brother  and  sisters  to  the 
pool,  and  told  them  about  the  buck  and  the  two 
does.  Never  in  all  their  lives  before  had  they  been 
so  near  any  real  wild,  large  animals,  and  it  did  a 
great  deal  toward  making  them  feel  more  contented 
with  their  new  home  and  its  surroundings. 

The  hours  went  by  rapidly,  and  nobody  in  the 
clearing  knew  that  it  was  so  near  noon  when  Abe 
put  his  head  in  at  the  door  and  shouted : 

"  Mother,  it's  old  man  Sansom  a-comin',  with  a 
boss  an'  somethin'  on  him." 

Everj^  soul  was  out  of  the  house  in  a  moment, 
and  Mr.  Lincoln  stepped  forward,  but  before  he 
was  able  to  say  a  word  he  was  hailed  with : 

"  Good  for  you,  Tom !  I  knowed  mighty  well 
what  you  was  up  to.  Glad  you  made  out  to  fetch 
her  along.  I've  knowed  her  for  twenty  year.  She's 
wuth  two  of  ye.    Wal,  I  reckoned  I'd  be  neighborly, 

74 


THE    NEW    HOME 

seein'  as  how  it  was  a  weddin'  affair.  I  had  prime 
luck  a-goin'  home  an'  out  this  momin'.  One  more 
yesterday,  an'  a  buck  an'  two  turkeys  this  mornin' 
— big  ones.  I  didn't  fetch  the  pony  this  time, 
nuther." 

Abe  had  noticed  that  first  thing,  for  the  animal 
upon  which  the  really  fine  lot  of  game  was  packed 
was  a  high-backed,  raw-boned,  mud-colored  horse, 
with  remarkably  long  legs  and  a  great  deal  of  mane 
and  tail. 

Mrs.  Lincoln  did  much  better  than  did  her  hus- 
band in  the  matter  of  thanks  and  acknowledgments, 
and  Tom  declared  that  he  would  be  out  with  his 
rifle  right  away;  but  old  man  Sansom  talked  right 
along,  with  only  a  moderate  drop  in  the  volume  and 
power  of  his  voice. 

"  That's  all  right.     But  speakin'  o'  bosses,  I 

reckoned  the  pony  wouldn't  do  nigh  so  well,  an'  I 

had  plenty  o'  bosses  on  hand,  but  I  didn't  have  no 

waggin  to  spare,  an'  I  wasn't  a-usin'  any  on  'em, 

an'  so  I  fetched  the  claybank,  an'  he's  a  good  one, 

if  you  have  to  go  over  to  the  river  landin'  for  trade 

or  anythin'.    He  can  carry  a  heap.    Some  hosses'll 

75 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

carry  a'most  as  much  as  a  waggin.  I  had  one  that 
I  went  'way  up  the  river  with,  one  time,  an'  what 
I  packed  onto  that  critter  to  fetch  home  with  me 
was  because  thar  wasn't  any  more  deck  room  onto 
his  back  to  stow  'em ;  but  I  had  to  come  home  afoot, 
an'  he  kep'  up  with  me,  an'  thar  ain't  many  bosses 
can  do  that." 

The  welcome  supply  of  game  was  removed  from 
the  back  of  the  claybank  horse  and  hung  up  against 
the  side  of  the  cabin,  while  Mrs.  Lincoln  and  the 
girls  were  preparing  for  old  man  Sansom  decidedly 
the  best  dinner  that  had  ever  been  cooked  before 
that  fireplace.  As  soon  as  he  had  done  it  justice — 
which  he  did — ^he  sat  down  before  the  fire  and 
smoked,  pulling  out  the  same  corn-cob  pipe,  but 
with  it  a  new  and  very  long  twist  of  that  yellow, 
home-grown  tobacco.  As  he  did  so,  he  entered  into 
a  full  and  interesting  exposition  of  the  right  way  in 
which  to  plant  and  raise  tobacco  in  the  woods,  and 
then  to  prepare  it  for  consumption. 

"  I  don't  raise  none  to  sell,"  he  told  them,  "  but 
I  never  have  to  buy  any.  My  weak  spot  is  bosses. 
Sometimes  I  have  so  many,  all  sorts,  that  'pears 

76 


THE    NEW    HOME 

like  they  was  a'most  a-eatin'  thar  heads  off.  I  had 
a  hoss,  once,  that  was  kind  o'  holler.  You  could 
stan'  in  front  of  him  an'  shovel  in  corn  all  day. 
An'  it  didn't  fatten  him,  nuther,  for  his  ribs'd 
show  if  he  was  wearin'  out  a  hull  corn-crap,  besides 
his  grass;  an'  I  sold  him  to  a  feller  from  down 
river  that  told  me  I  didn't  know  how  to  feed  crit- 
ters an'  he'd  show  me  what  a  hoss  like  that'd  be 
if  he  was  only  fed  up.  An'  two  months  later  I  met 
him,  an'  I  asked  him  if  he  had  that  hoss  on  hand 
yit ;  an'  he  said  he  had,  but  he'd  had  to  buy  another 
farm  to  raise  fodder  for  him,  an'  hire  hands  to 
shovel  it  in." 

Next  to  that,  for  lively  conversation,  were  the 
endless  inquiries  he  had  to  make  concerning  all 
sorts  of  people  he  had  formerly  known  in  Ken- 
tucky and  Tennessee,  and  of  quite  a  number  of 
whom  he  appeared  to  have  imbibed  unfavorable 
opinions. 

"  You  know  how  it  is  with  that  kind  o'  men, 
Mrs.  Johnston — I  mean  Mrs.  Linkin — "  he  said. 
"  Your  first  husband  used  to  be  keeper  of  the  county 
jail.    He  had  lots  on  'em  under  lock  an'  key,  one 

77 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

time  or  another.  The  trouble  was  with  that  jail 
it  wasn't  half  large  enough,  an'  so  they  let  a  heap 
o'  fellers  go  by.  Some  on  'em  got  out  of  it,  too,  an' 
saved  the  county  thar  keep  till  they  were  convicted 
ag'in  an'  put  back." 

Abe  could  have  heard  Sansom  spin  yarns  all 
day,  but  even  that  afternoon  part  of  one  wore  out, 
and  the  old  man  prepared  to  go. 

"  It's  all  right,  Tom,"  he  said.  "  You've  had 
IDrime  good  luck,  whether  she  has  or  not,  an'  you 
can  keep  the  claybank  in  the  old  pole-shelter  as  good 
as  if  'twas  a  barn.  Y^ou  can  keep  him  all  winter, 
an'  I'll  lend  a  hand  an'  heljD  you  with  your  jDlowin' 
in  the  si3ring.  I  hear  thar  are  lots  o'  new  settlers 
comin'  in,  an'  we  won't  be  quite  so  hard-up  for 
neighbors  one  o'  these  days — an'  some  neighbors 
ain't  wuth  havin',  nuther." 

He  was  gone,  shortly,  and  did  not  know  how 
much  he  had  done  toward  making  Mrs.  Lincoln  feel 
contented  with  her  new  surroundings.  As  for  her 
husband,  it  was  an  unexpected  stroke  of  good  for- 
tune to  have  a  long-legged  and  broad-backed  horse 

to  carry  him  to  the  trading-places  at  the  far-away 

78 


THE    NEW    HOME 

river  landings,  and  to  bring  home  for  him  the  pur- 
chases he  might  now  be  compelled  to  make — such, 
for  instance,  as  window  sashes  with  the  glass  in,  all 
ready  to  be  hung  up  on  their  hinges. 

One  of  the  good  things  for  the  girls  and  boys, 
three  of  each  kind,  was  that  they  were  old  acquaint- 
ances and  easily  accepted  the  idea  that  they  now 
all  belonged  to  the  same  family.  They  could  the 
more  readily  nestle  together  under  the  same  small 
roof.  Mrs.  Lincoln  at  once  rejected  a  suggestion 
that  some  of  her  flock  might  be  sent  to  sleep  in  the 
pole-shelter. 

"  No,"  she  said  indignantly ;  "  it's  good  enough 
for  pigs,  or  for  old  man  Sansom's  horse,  but  it  isn't 
the  right  place  for  humans." 

Abe  took  a  deep  interest  in  the  claybank,  with 
a  curious  idea  in  his  mind  that  it  was  the  first  ani- 
mal he  had  ever  owned,  and  that  he  must  pay  par- 
ticular attention  to  the  matter  of  corn  and  water; 
but  as  yet  he  did  not  wony  himself  about  such 
horse  luxuries  as  curiycombs  and  brushes. 

"  Wish  we  had  a  dog,  too,"  he  said  to  Dennis. 

"  We  ought  to  have  a  cat,  and  mother  says  she'll 

79 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

git  one,  soon  as  she  can.  She  says  she  won't  feel 
all  at  home  till  thar's  a  cat  in  front  o'  the  fire." 

"We  haven't  any  rats  for  one,"  replied  Den- 
nis ;  "  but  a  cat  can  live  the  best  kind  on  young 
rabbits." 

"  We'll  have  all  sorts  o'  good  times,  anyhow," 
said  Abe ;  but  he  did  not  know  what  was  the  next 
thing  coming  to  him. 

The  days  of  idleness  had  passed  for  that  house- 
hold the  moment  the  new  mother  went  into  the 
cabin.  Hardly  had  Abe  returned  from  his  work  at 
the  corn-crib  and  pole-shelter,  next  morning,  before 
he  was  informed  that  there  was  much  water  ready 
for  use.  Some  of  it  was  hot,  too,  and  it  was  time 
for  him  to  experience  the  almost  novel  sensation  of 
a  bath  from  head  to  foot.  He  needed  one  badly, 
and  it  made  him  feel  as  if  he  were  becoming  an- 
other fellow.  There  was  something  more  to  come. 
Mrs.  Lincoln  had  fished  up  from  one  of  her  boxes 
a  nearly  new  buckskin  suit  that  was  only  a  little 
too  large  for  him.  He  would  soon  grow  into  it,  she 
said,  and  he  responded : 

"Yes'm;  but  that  isn't  jest  the  way  it  goes. 

80 


THE    NEW    HOME 

Wlien  things  are  too  big,  tliey  shrink  down  to  me 
till  they  fit.    This'U  be  tight  in  a  little  while." 

There  was  no  doubt  on  that  point,  but  the  work 
of  improvement  had  not  reached  its  climax.  It  was 
only  a  few  minutes  before  he  found  himself  sitting 
on  a  three-legged  stool,  with  the  face  of  a  young 
martyr,  while  a  pair  of  sharp  scissors  was  busy 
with  his  uncombed  hair.  Lock  after  lock  came  off, 
until  he  began  to  feel  light  headed.  At  the  end  of 
it  all,  she  made  him  look  at  himself  in  a  mirror 
which  she  had  set  up  over  the  bureau.  If  he  had 
ever  done  such  a  thing  before  he  did  not  say,  but 
he  could  have  told  her  that  he  had  never  been  well 
acquainted  with  the  boy  in  yonder,  behind  the  glass. 
If  he  had  actually  done  so,  he  would  have  been  en- 
tirely correct,  for  a  new  boy  by  the  name  of  Abe 
Lincoln  was  beginning  to  take  the  place  of  the  poor 
young  half -savage  who  had  hitherto  been  known  by 
that  name.  Dennis  and  Nancy  also  received  many 
kinds  of  attention  and  improvement.  Nancy  ap- 
peared to  rejoice  in  it,  but  Dennis  grimly  submitted, 
as  to  a  tyranny  against  which  he  would  like  to  rebel, 
if  he  dared. 

81 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

"Some  things  are  gittin'  to  rights  now,"  said 
Mrs.  Lincoln,  at  the  dinner-table ;  "  but  thar  isn't  a 
pound  o'  hominy  in  the  house,  an'  we've  got  to  set 
to  work  an'  make  some.   What  I  want  first  is  ashes." 

"I'll  go  to  choppin'  right  away,"  began  her 
husband  submissively.  "  You  can  have  loads  of 
ashes " 

But  she  interrupted  him :  "  No,  I  ain't  gwine  to 
wait  for  that.  Y^ou  chop  for  puncheons  an'  for 
more  wood,  and  I'll  burn  that  whole  wood-pile  but 
I'll  have  ashes  right  away.  I'll  go  out  now  an' 
start  a  fire  while  the  weather's  dry.  I  found  a  good 
barr'l,  an'  you  can  fetch  out  your  saw  an'  cut  it  in 
two  in  the  middle." 

"  That  barr'l,"  he  said,-  "yes,  I'd  forgot  it.  It 
was  fetched  here  long  ago.  Jest  the  thing  to  set  a 
leech  with.    We'll  have  some  hominy." 

A  great  heap  of  logs  and  brushwood  was 
shortly  burning  at  a  short  distance  from  the  house. 
One  of  the  half-barrels  produced  with  the  saw  was 
sitting  up  gravely  on  pegs,  with  its  other  half  on  the 
ground  in  front  of  it.  Then  it  was  a  matter  for  as- 
tonishment how  soon  the  half  on  the  pegs  was  full 

82 


THE    NEW    HOME 

to  its  lips  with  fresh,  clean  ashes.  Some  of  them 
had  been  so  hot  that  they  hissed  indignantly  when 
a  bucket  of  water  from  the  pool  was  poured  upon 
them.  Just  before  that  was  done,  Tom  Lincoln  had 
bored  a  hole  near  the  bottom  of  the  leech-tub  and 
fitted  in  what  he  called  a  "spile,"  made  of  two  splits 
of  wood  with  a  hollow  gouged  along  their  middles. 
It  was  not  long  before  a  slow  stream  of  dark  red 
lye  began  to  trickle  down  through  the  spile  and  into 
the  tub  below. 

During  all  this  time,  however,  the  younger  work- 
men of  the  combined  families  had  not  been  permit- 
ted to  be  idle.  It  had  been  discovered  that  while  the 
nearer  corn-crib,  from  which  feeding  was  now  go- 
ing on,  was  supplied  altogether  with  the  long-eared, 
yellow-grained,  "  horse-tooth "  corn  which  cattle 
prefer,  but  which  many  people  consider  too  coarse 
for  meal  or  for  human  food,  the  farther  crib  con- 
tained quantities  of  the  smaller-eared  and  finer- 
grained  "  flint "  varieties,  which  neither  cattle  nor 
horses  like  so  well.  Neither  do  corn-raisers,  for  the 
flint  will  not  raise  nearly  so  many  bushels  to  the 
acre,  nor  will  it  make  as  much  pork.    At  all  events, 

83 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

the  boys  had  been  sent  to  that  crib,  with  orders  to 
sort  out  such  grain  as  their  mother  required  for 
hominy  and  the  like.  They  succeeded  pretty  well 
and  were  proud  of  it,  but  the  next  orders  given  made 
Abe  and  Dennis  put  on  wry  faces.  Both  of  them, 
and  John  Johnston,  were  transfonned  into  corn- 
shellers,  and  were  not  let  out  of  that  unwelcome  job 
until  near  supper-time.  It  was  slow,  hard  work, 
and  even  then  Mrs.  Lincoln  told  them  they  had  not 
shelled  out  enough  to  last  so  large  a  family  as  that 
for  any  length  of  time.  They  would  have  to  shell  a 
heap  more,  right  away. 

"  We  won't  put  any  to  soak  to-night,"  she  said, 
"  for  a  big  lot  of  it  must  go  in  at  the  same  time  an' 
soak  even.  We'll  fill  the  tub,  first  thing  to-morrer 
momin'.  That's  right  good,  strong  lye.  I  reckon 
it'll  take  off  the  shucks  as  clean  as  a  whistle." 

From  hour  to  hour,  as  work  went  on,  one  fact 
became  more  and  more  clear  concerning  Mr.  Thom- 
as Lincoln.  He  was  somewhat  under  six  feet  in 
height,  and  round-shouldered,  but  his  every  move- 
ment testified  that  he  was  possessed  of  unusual  mus- 
cular strength.     He  was  a  man  of  power.    More- 

84 


THE    NEW    HOME 

over,  his  manner  of  doing  all  that  was  now  upon  his 
hands  told  how  ready  he  was  to  do  anything  in  the 
world  that  he  could  for  the  wife  he  had  brought  out 
into  the  woods.  A  motion  of  her  hand  or  a  glance 
of  her  eye  was  enough,  and  this  promised  well  for 
the  future  happiness  of  the  log-cabin  household. 
Therefore,  and  for  many  reasons,  it  was  never 
again  to  be  at  all  the  affair  it  had  been  in  the  dreary, 
uncomfortable  days  gone  by. 

Evening  came  and  the  whole  family  was  gath- 
ered in  the  one  room.  The  door  was  shut  and  the 
fire  was  blazing  high,  for  a  chill  November  wind  was 
whistling  among  the  tree  tops  and  shivering  around 
the  open.  The  flickering  light  searched  all  around 
the  room  inquiringly,  as  if  it  were  an  old  resident 
returned  from  an  absence  and  surprised  to  find  so 
man}"  new  faces  to  shine  upon.  Something  like 
that  was  what  Abraham  Lincoln  was  doing  with  his 
own  eyes.  He  had  placed  a  stool  for  himself  away 
at  the  farther  end  of  the  magnificent  new  table,  while 
all  the  others  were  gathered  in  a  semicircle  around 
the  fire,  until  it  investigated  them  too  earnestly  with 
heat  as  well  as  light,  and  compelled  them  to  push 

85 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

back  their  chairs.  There  were  enough  of  these  for 
all  of  them,  for  Sally  Johnston  was  sitting  in  her 
mother's  lap,  with  her  arms  around  the  good  wom- 
an's neck.  It  might  have  been  remarked  that  as 
Abe's  eyes  went  all  around,  from  face  to  face,  his 
hands  went  up  to  his  head  and  felt  of  it  all  over. 
It  was  not  so  much  that  they  missed  finding  his 
much-valued  hair  in  the  place  where  it  used  to  be, 
but  that  in  their  vain  hunt  for  it  they  had  helped 
him  to  make  all  this  wonderful  change  more  like  a 
thing  of  this  present  world  that  he  knew  about,  and 
less  like  some  strange  dream  or  a  look  into  some 
other  world,  far  away  from  these  woods  and  that 
clearing. 

"  Tom,"  said  Mrs.  Lincoln  at  the  end  of  a  long 
silence,  "  I'll  jest  tell  you  what.  When  spring 
comes,  you've  got  to  spade  me  up  a  good,  wide 
patch  for  a  garden.  I  want  to  grow  inyons  an'  all 
sorts  o'  things.  Besides,  we're  gwine  to  have  a  cow 
of  our  own,  if  we  can  git  one ;  an'  I'll  want  you  to 
put  in  pumpkins  among  the  com;  squashes,  too, 
and  watermillions.    Thar  can  be  a  mighty  sight  o' 

truck  raised  on  sech  a  patch  as  this  is." 

86 


THE    NEW    HOME 

"  Good  for  you !  "  he  said.  "  We'll  jam  it  cliuck 
full.  I  don't  keer  how  much  we  put  in.  It's  good 
land.  'Pears  to  me  we  can  fix  things  right  up  to 
the  handle  'fore  another  winter.  I'm  in  for  a  cow 
as  much  as  you  be,  an'  I'm  right  down  glad  o'  San- 
som's  hoss.    I'll  set  out  for  the  river " 

"  No,  you  won't !  "  she  exclaimed,  "  not  till  the 
puncheons  are  cut  an'  put  down !  I'm  gwine  to  have 
a  floor  first  thing.  An'  every  tree  you  cut'll  give 
plenty  o'  branches  for  the  wood-pile.  Thar'll  be 
good  backlogs  left,  too.  When  a  house  is  as  open 
all  'round  as  this  is,  you've  got  to  keep  the  fire 
a-goin'.  It'll  have  to  be  a  mighty  high  pile,  'fore  the 
real  cold  weather  sets  in.  Besides,  you  don't  know 
how  much  snow  may  come,  and  we  may  be  kind  o' 
drifted  in  an'  shut  up  one  o'  these  days." 

"  Wal,  now  as  to  that,"  he  replied  confidently, 

''  thar  was  never  any  great  amount  o'  hard  weather 

down  here,  so  nigh  the  river.    It  all  comes  farther 

north — up  toward  the  lakes.    But  they  do  jest  have 

hard  winters  up  thar.     I've  heard  tell  o'  some  o' 

them.    Make  you  shiver !  " 

As  if  to  ascertain  whether  or  not  it  would  do  so 
7  87 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

he  proceeded  to  relate  a  number  of  interesting  sto- 
ries that  he  had  heard  concerning  the  kind  and  cold 
of  the  snow  times  that  were  to  be  experienced  by  the 
dwellers  in  the  northern  woods  of  Indiana.  The 
lakes  would  all  freeze  solid  sometimes,  he  said,  and 
the  bears  would  freeze  in  the  hollow  trees,  so  that 
it  would  be  late  in  the  spring  before  they  could  thaw 
and  come  out. 


88 


CHAPTER  VI 

OUT  OF  THE  SHADOW 


I 


HERE  it  stood  on  the  new  table,  and  Abe 
was  staring  at  it.  He  had  been  out  to 
see  shelled  corn  poured  into  the  tub  of 
lye  until  it  would  hold  no  more,  and  he  knew  very 
well  what  a  change  would  come  to  the  kernels  soon 
after  that.  It  was  not  the  first  time  he  had  seen 
corn  prepared  for  hominy.  After  a  sufficient  soak- 
ing, it  would  have  to  be  taken  out  of  the  tub,  dried, 
hustled  around  on  an  old  blanket,  winnowed  clean 
of  the  separated  husks,  and  put  away  for  further 
drying.  Then  it  would  become  "  hulled  corn,"  and 
might  be  cooked  and  eaten  as  such,  but  it  would 
have  to  be  cracked  before  it  would  be  fit  to  make 
cakes.  He  also  knew  that  there  was  what  was 
called  a  "hand-mill,"  miles  and  miles  away  from 

that  house,  but  his  hulled  corn  was  not  to  go  there 

89 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

at  present,  for  there  was  enough  of  ground  meal 
on  hand.  It  was  this  thing,  here  on  the  table,  which 
was  the  next  most  important  improvement  in  the 
Lincoln  housekeeping.  It  was  an  iron  mortar  a 
foot  high,  and  above  it  arose  the  long  wooden 
handle  of  its  pestle.  Mortars  like  this  were  the 
principal  mills  of  the  frontier  during  many  a  long 
year  after  that,  and  they  were  the  great  aversion 
of  all  the  young  people,  to  whom,  as  a  rule,  the 
handling  of  pestles  especially  appertained. 

The  first  duties  of  the  mortar  in  the  present  in- 
stance, however,  had  nothing  to  do  with  corn.  At 
that  moment  Mrs.  Lincoln  was  busily  scouring  the 
old  saucepan,  to  remove  from  it  all  traces  and 
flavors  of  bacon. 

"  I  don't  want  any  smoked  pork  in  my  coffee," 
she  had  sharply  remarked ;  "  it'd  sjDile  it  for  me. 
Some  folks  don't  seem  to  keer,  but  I  do." 

Already  there  had  been  pulled  out  from  among 
her  many  treasures  a  bag  which  appeared  to  con- 
tain over  a  peck.  When  she  opened  it,  she  took  out 
a  handful  of  the  large-beaned  Rio  coffee,  which  in 

those  days  was  brought  up  the  river  by  the  wagon 

90 


OUT    OF    THE    SHADOW 

trains  from  New  Orleans.  As  for  flatl)oats  of  the 
ordinary  j^atterns,  they  indeed  floated  down-stream, 
but  they  never  came  up  again,  for  no  rowers  could 
have  propelled  them  against  the  swift  currents  and 
through  the  eddies.  Even  after  steam  came  in 
and  there  was  less  need  of  oars,  the  big  side-wheel 
and  stern-wheel  steamboats  sometimes  had  all  that 
they  could  do  to  overcome  the  rushing  power  of  the 
floods  which  were  hurrying  southward  to  the  Gulf 
of  Mexico  and  the  ocean. 

The  saucepan  was  ready  at  last,  and  then  it  was 
a  treat  indeed  for  Abe  to  watch  the  roasting  and  to 
smell  the  fragrant  odor  which  arose  and  came  to 
him  from  the  burnt  beans  of  South  America. 

"  Now,  Abe,"  said  Mrs.  Lincoln,  "  I'm  gwine  to 
teach  you  how  to  pound  coffee.  We'll  have  some 
for  dinner  this  very  day." 

Down  upon  the  floor  came  the  mortar,  and  down 
he  went  with  his  legs  around  it,  all  willingness  to 
make  his  first  attempt,  but  not  without  an  increas- 
ingly  clear  idea  of  what  that  iron  pot  might  yet 
have  in  store  for  such  boys  as  he  and  Dennis  and 
John  Johnston.    That  was  because  no  such  thing 

91 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

as  ready  roasted  and  ground  coffee  had  yet  been 
seen  in  the  Mississippi  valley. 

The  next  unexpected  rarity  to  make  its  appear- 
ance was  a  quantity  of  coarse,  brown  sugar,  the 
proposed  use  of  which  then  and  there  was  for  the 
coffee  only.  Quantities  of  this  great  sweetener  and 
civilizer  were  already  making  on  the  lower  Louisi- 
ana plantations.  More  were  coming  on  ships  from 
the  West  Indies,  for  the  commerce  of  the  United 
States  was  growing  fast.  It  sometimes  almost 
seemed  as  if  a  man  who  would  stand  still  and  listen, 
might  hear  a  kind  of  humming  sound,  as  of  myriads 
of  busy  and  bee-like  beings,  hard  at  work  upon  the 
building  of  the  foundations  of  the  country  that  was 
yet  to  be.  Everywhere  the  muscles  and  the  brains  of 
boys  and  girls  were  building,  building.  In  some  of 
those  brains — and  nobody  might  yet  tell  which 
of  them — new  and  strange  ideas  were  taking  root, 
like  young  trees  which  were  one  daj'  to  bear 
fruits  whereof  no  man  alive  had  so  much  as 
dreamed. 

Abe  Lincoln,  for  instance,  was  not  only  learn- 
ing from  what  countries  coffee  and  sugar  came, 

92 


OUT    OF    THE    SHADOW 

but  at  the  same  time  lie  was  obtaining  a  strong  im- 
pression of  the  effect  which  might  be  produced  by 
long,  hard  pounding  with  iron  and  willing  muscles. 
Just  so,  no  doubt,  were  a  great  many  other  boys,  and 
little  good  it  did  for  some  of  them  in  the  way  of 
schooling  or  development.  That  is  to  say,  in  all  that 
region  there  were  small  "  scrub  "  oaks  which  would 
never  grow  any  higher,  while  from  the  same  kind 
of  acorns,  apparently,  there  were  other  saplings 
which  in  due  time  went  towering  away  up  into  the 
upper  sunshine.  It  was  not  with  reference  to  any 
hope  of  that  kind  that  before  long  Abe  got  up  from 
around  the  mortar  and  pestle  and  went  for  a  look 
at  that  "  Muscovado  "  sugar.  It  made  him  think 
of  some  wild  honey  he  had  once  tasted,  and  he  had 
heard  old  man  Sansom  aver  his  belief  that  bee- 
trees  full  of  sweetness  might  be  found  within  a  few 
miles  of  the  river. 

"  You  see,"  Sansom  had  said,  "  it  stands  to  rea- 
son. The  bees  kem  in  with  the  white  settlers,  an' 
they  git  crowded  out  o'  one  place  after  another, 
jest  as  we  do.    What  they  need  is  holler  trees,  an' 

they'll  find  'em  an'  preempt  'em,  if  they  have  to 

93 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

wing  it  across  a  river  to  do  it.    That's  jest  what 
I'd  do,  if  I  was  a  bee." 

Mr.  Lincoln  himself  was  a  hard-working  man 
that  day,  and  he  was  a  capital  woodsman.  Not 
many  men  could  so  rapidly  bring  down  a  tree  and 
rive  it  for  either  rails  or  puncheons.  As  for  the 
latter,  not  a  large  number  had  to  be  made  at  pres- 
ent, merely  to  cover  that  amount  of  floor.  The  trees 
selected  were  of  the  smaller  sizes,  not  more  than 
twelve  or  fourteen  inches  through,  and  of  a  grain 
as  straight  as  could  be  found.  Down  they  came, 
and  after  they  were  chopped  into  lengths  the 
process  of  riving,  with  a  wedge  and  maul,  was  per- 
formed with  rapidity.  Much  of  it  was  completed, 
trimming  and  all,  before  the  end  of  that  first 
hominy-making  day.  The  trees  fell  and  were  trans- 
formed into  puncheons  while  the  corn  was  soaking. 
Abe  went  out  to  look  at  them,  after  the  coffee  was 
pounded.  It  was  to  him  an  exceedingly  interesting 
operation,  but  those  puncheons  were  to  lift  him  up 
in  the  world  a  great  deal  higher  than  their  mere 
measured  thickness.    The  floor  itself  was  not  to  be 

raised  much.    Several  inches  in  depth  of  the  pound- 

94 


OUT    OF    THE    SHADOW 

ed  clay  was  to  be  shoveled  out  before  the  half-logs 
were  put  in.  At  the  very  outset  of  the  work,  how- 
ever, it  was  evident  that  the  whole  aspect  of  that 
interior  would  undergo  a  civilizing  change. 

The  effect  of  all  this  upon  Mr.  Tom  Lincoln 
himself  was  remarkable.  He  was  a  fine  specimen 
of  that  large  class  of  men  in  whom  there  is  a  great 
capacity  for  hard  work,  but  who  are  altogether  in 
need  of  competent  direction.  This  had  now  come 
to  him,  accompanied  by  intelligence  and  a  strong 
will,  and  he  was  by  no  means  averse  to  taking  the 
benefit  offered.  There  are  a  great  many  house- 
holds, the  world  over,  in  which  the  wife  and  mother 
is  by  all  odds  the  best  business  man  of  the  concern. 
Mrs.  Lincoln  had  also  the  advantage  of  an  educa- 
tion better  than  that  of  her  husband,  and  with  it 
also  a  deeply  religious  turn  of  mind.  She  was  just 
the  woman  to  lift  up  those  who  were  around  her, 
if  they  would  let  her.  At  least  one  of  her  newly 
acquired  boys  began  to  feel  almost  instantly  that  a 
new  force  was  operating  upon  him.  Moreover, 
while  altogether  unaware  of  it,  he  was  beginning 
to  see  dimly  the  advantage  of  the  education  which 

95 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

his  new  mother  had  obtained,  and  which  made  her 
so  superior  to  her  unpleasant  and  unexpected  cir- 
cumstances. 

"  Tom  Lincoln,"  she  said  to  him,  just  after  sup- 
per, "we'll  git  to  rights  in  no  time.  One  thing  I 
want  right  away,  an'  that's  lard.  You'll  have  to  kill 
one  o'  the  fattest  shoats,  an'  we'll  use  the  pork  fresh, 
but  I  must  have  lard  to  fry  cakes  with.  I  won't 
have  all  the  hominy,  when  it's  done,  put  to  cook  in 
bacon  fat.  Jest  the  same  with  deer-meat;  an'  I'm 
right  down  glad  I  fetched  along  a  good  gridiron. 
This  br'ilin'  cuts  on  a  stick,  like  so  many  hunters 
in  a  camp,  won't  do  for  us  any  longer.  To-morrer 
we'll  have  a  whole  saddle  roasted  in  that  oven. 
Meat'll  keep  first-rate  in  sech  cold  weather  as  this, 
an'  we  must  have  most  o'  the  chojoi^in'  done  before 
a  storm  comes.  After  the  puncheons  are  down, 
you'll  go  to  the  river  for  the  window-sashes;  then 
we  can  go  to  work  an'  set  up  the  lean-to.  I  don't 
want  to  have  to  dig  firewood  out  of  a  snow-bank, 
an'  we'd  most  likely  have  that  to  do  if  we  didn't 
put  on  a  wood-shed.    One  o'  poles'd  do  to  begin 

with." 

96 


OUT    OF    THE    SHADOW 

Tom  almost  sighed  over  the  thought  of  all  those 
improvements  and  luxuries,  but  he  agreed  with  her 
in  his  heart,  and  so  did  all  the  young  people,  who 
were  likely  one  of  these  days  to  have  to  bring  in 
that  firewood.  It  occurred  to  Abe,  moreover,  that 
it  would  be  a  great  thing  if  the  pool  itself  could  be 
hauled  a  few  yards  nearer.  He  did  not  know  that 
Mrs.  Lincoln  had  already  been  talking,  prophet- 
ically, about  a  deeply  sunken,  genuine,  regularly 
walled-in  well,  as  one  of  the  beauties  of  the  future 
for  that  clearing.  It  was,  she  had  confidently  de- 
clared, to  have  a  curb  and  a  rope  and  a  bucket.  The 
water  from  it  would  be  cool  in  summer,  instead  of 
warm,  like  pool  water.  Besides,  Abe  himself  knew 
that  at  times  that  pool  would  grow  warmer  and 
warmer  till  it  sank  away  and  dried  up. 

There  was  to  be  no  pig-killing  that  evening,  nor 
on  the  next  day,  for  the  floor  was  the  first  thing  of 
importance.  The  hominy  was  doing  well  and  ma- 
king rapidly,  but  that,  along  with  the  mortar  and 
pestle,  might  have  in  it  much  evil  yet  to  be  mani- 
fested. Here  was  a  work  from  which  Mr.  Lincoln 
himself  was  to  be  counted  out.    Abe  shortly  recol- 

97 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

lected  hearing  old  man  Sansom  relate  how  the 
Indians  themselves  cracked  their  "  samp "  in 
wooden  mortars,  when  they  could  not  find  deep 
enough  holes  in  rocks  to  answer  the  purpose.  It 
was  not  at  all  reassuring,  in  the  present  case,  to 
remember  also  that  no  proud  red  man  ever  ham- 
mered corn.  It  was  a  task  which  belonged  to  the 
squaws,  and  which  the  wigwam  ladies  were  apt  to 
turn  over  to  such  very  young  braves  as  were  still 
under  squaw  government.  It  was  possible  that  in 
his  own  case  even  samp  might  yet  be  added  to  the 
monotonous  toil  attending  the  preparation  of  hom- 
iny and  coffee.  Only  the  future  could  unfold,  but 
Abe  was  developing  an  aversion  for  that  mortar. 

It  takes  more  than  one  day  to  dry  out  hominy, 
but  the  sun  and  wind  could  work  as  well  on  the 
Sunday  which  came  as  on  any  other  day,  although 
all  chopping  and  pestle  business  had  to  stop.  It 
was  on  Monday  that  the  entire  family  put  in  its 
best  efforts  upon  the  shoveling  out  of  the  clay  floor, 
and  after  that  the  placing  of  the  puncheons  was 
easily  done.  All  the  while,  the  wood-pile  grew  and 
the  cookery  improved ;  but  Tom  Lincoln  was  every 

98 


OUT    OF    THE    SHADOW 

now  and  then  heard  to  say  something  or  other  about 
going  over  to  old  man  Sansom's  pretty  soon,  with 
reference  to  deer  and  turkeys. 

"  Jest  as  soon  as  I've  'tended  to  the  fresh  pork," 
he  declared,  "I  want  to  git  out  into  the  woods. 
'Pears  to  me,  what  I'd  like  to  do,  more'n  'most  any- 
thing else,  is  to  hear  the  crack  of  a  rifle  ag'in." 

Mrs.  Lincoln  was  thoughtful  for  a  moment,  but 
she  did  not  make  any  open  opposition.  On  Tues- 
day, therefore,  the  fat  pig  was  shot,  as  if  it  had  been 
a  wild  one,  and  its  carcass  was  put  into  proper 
shape  for  whatever  operations  were  thereafter  to  be 
performed  upon  it.  On  the  following  morning, 
daylight  had  hardly  arrived  when  Mr.  Lincoln  and 
Abe  were  at  the  pole-shelter,  attending  to  the  clay- 
bank  horse.  He  seemed  to  Abe  about  the  biggest 
of  his  kind  that  he  had  ever  seen,  and  it  was  already 
known  by  the  Lincoln  family  how  much  corn  each 
day  was  required  to  feed  him.  Abe  and  his  father 
had  also  eaten  breakfast,  and  the  latter  had  won- 
dered why  his  wife  had  so  firmly  insisted  upon  his 
taking  so  small  a  boy  along  with  him.    He  would 

have  understood  that  matter  a  great  deal  better  if 

99 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

he  could  have  read  her  thoughts  or  heard  her  say- 
to  herself: 

"  I  never  did  see  quite  sech  another  boy  as  he  is, 
for  some  things.  He  jest  does  take  notice  of  every 
least  thing  'round  him.  I  a'most  reckon  he  has 
eyes  in  the  hack  of  his  head.  That  boy's  up  to  learn- 
in'  all  thar  is,  an'  I'm  gwine  to  see  to  it  that  he 
goes  to  school.  It  isn't  of  much  use  for  some,  but 
it  will  be  for  him.  Anyhow,  when  he  gits  home 
he'll  be  able  to  tell  me  all  about  that  Sansom  place 
a  heap  better'n  his  father  could.  He'd  come  pretty 
nigh  seein'  things  that  wasn't  thar." 

TVhen  a  boy  has  a  habit  of  seeing  all  there  is 
between  him  and  the  horizon,  and  with  that  the 
other  habit  of  remembering  all  he  has  seen,  he  is 
sure  to  have  a  full  head  in  the  course  of  time.  He 
had  already  seen,  that  morning,  that  he  might  have 
difficulty  in  mounting  so  tall  a  horse ;  but  his  father 
settled  that  matter  by  picking  him  up  as  if  he 
weighed  nothing  at  all  and  landing  him  safely  on 
his  perch. 

"  Sit  well  back,"  he  said,  "  an'  I'll  git  on  in 
front.    He's  as  gentle  as  a  kitten,  an'  he's  used  to 

100 


OUT    OF    THE    SHADOW 

carryin'  double ;  only  most  o'  the  time  his  load  is  a 
man  an'  a  deer,  or  mebbe  a  pile  o'  bags." 

Away  they  went  through  the  frosty  woods,  and 
these  were  so  clear  that  no  traveled  road  was  needed 
by  a  horse  with  no  wheels  behind  him.  The  distance 
to  be  ridden  was  only  a  few  miles,  and  it  was  still 
early  in  the  morning  when  they  came  out  of  the 
forest  at  the  edge  of  a  respectably  large  clearing 
and  natural  meadow,  on  the  bank  of  Big  Pigeon 
Creek. 

"  Here's  old  man  Sansom's,"  said  Mr.  Lincoln 
— "houses  an'  stables  an'  barns!  How  like  all 
natur'  he  an'  his  sons  an'  his  sons-in-law  must  ha' 
worked  to  set  'em  all  up!  Two  or  three  more'd 
make  a  village  of  it.  Hosses  an'  cattle  an'  hogs. 
He's  gittin'  rich,  if  all  them  critters  don't  eat  him 
bone  dry.  Takes  a  heap  o'  corn  for  sech  a  lot  as 
that." 

Only  a  minute  later  they  were  hailed  across  the 

open  by  the  loudest  welcome  old  man  Sansom  could 

send  them,  and  he  and  his  quite  numerous  family 

poured  tumultuously  out  of  the  house. 

"  Come  for  a  hunt,  have  ye  1 "  roared  the  old 

101 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

man.  "  I  knowed  you'd  come  soon's  you  could. 
Got  your  old  woman  settled,  have  ye?  Smartest 
thing  you  ever  did;  an'  how  you  managed  to  per- 
suade her  to  come  beats  me.  I  wouldn't  ha'  married 
ye  for  any  money.  Come  on  in,  an'  we'll  be  off  in 
short  order.  You  can  leave  that  boy  o'  your'n  here 
at  the  house,  an'  the  women'll  talk  him  to  death 
while  we're  gone.  I've  been  out  an'  sighted  lots  o' 
game,  an'  the  deer  ain't  runnin'  so  wild  as  they  was ; 
turkeys  nuther.  I'll  git  'round  an'  be  ready  in  no 
*  time.    Been  moldin'  bullets." 

He  had  no  more  to  say,  and  by  the  time  he  was 
ready  to  put  his  pipe  into  his  mouth  again  his  vis- 
itors were  at  the  door,  and  a  tall,  strong-looking 
young  woman  had  taken  Abe  down  from  the  back 
of  the  horse,  remarking: 

"I've  got  ye,  you  picked  chicken!     Now  you 

come  in  an'  tell  us  all  about  your  new  mother,  an' 

the  Johnston  girls,  an'  John.    We  used  to  know 

'em,  in  Kentucky,  an'  we're  mighty  glad  they've 

come.    What  we've  been  wantin'  was  a  heap  more 

o'  nigh  neighbors,  somebody  close  by,  to  run  in  an' 

see.    An'  we're  comin'  right  over  to  have  a  talk 

102 


OUT    OF    THE    SHADOW 

with  Sally  Bush — but  her  name  isn't  Johnston  now, 
it's  Linkin — jest  as  soon's  we  reckon  she's  ready." 

Abe  was  already  aware  that  this  was  a  Mrs.  Jim 
Williams,  a  daughter  of  old  man  Sansom,  and  that 
she  could  stop  talking  about  as  soon  as  he  could, 
but  not  much  sooner.  Just  now  the  arrival  of 
others  might  have  turned  her  into  a  quiet  and  silent 
kind  of  woman,  if  it  had  not  been  for  a  swarm 
of  small  children  to  whom  she  was  compelled  to 
give  her  next  attention — and  they  all  had  to  be 
spoken  to. 

"  Come  right  along  in,"  said  the  larger  woman, 
who  now  took  hold  of  Abe.  "  Most  likely  you've 
had  some  breakfast,  but  a  little  more  won't  hurt  ye, 
not  after  sech  a  ride.  I  reckon  your  father'll  eat 
somethin',  too,  while  my  father's  gittin'  ready." 

"  The  boys'll  'tend  to  all  that's  outside,"  he  told 

her.    "  But  we  won't  take  along  that  claybank  boss. 

I'd  ruther  have  my  yaller  gray;  he's  every  bit  as 

good  a  walker,  an'  what's  more,  he'll  stan'  still  all 

day  jest  whar  you  plant  him,  an'  that's  the  kind 

o'  boss  for  a  deer-hunt,  for  you  don't  need  to  hitch 

him.    I  say,  Abe,  you  was  askin'  me  all  sorts  o' 
8  103 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

questions  at  your  house.  Do  you  see  that?  An' 
you  don't  know  what  it  is  ?  " 

Abe's  eyes  followed  the  pointing  finger,  and  he 
did  see.  It  was  a  long  string  of  something  hanging 
against  the  log  wall  of  the  house ;  but  the  old  man 
was  correct,  for  he  could  not  even  guess  what  it 
might  be. 

"  Can't  hit  it,  eh?  "  said  Sansom.  "  Wal,  them's 
from  Gineral  Harrison's  old  war  with  the  British 
and  Injins.  Him  an'  Commodore  Perry — up  'round 
the  lakes  and  on  'em.  Some  day  I'll  tell  ye  how 
I  kem  by  'em,  but  not  now.  They're  ginooine  Shaw- 
nee Injin  skelps,  an'  some  others  mixed  in,  mebbe. 
They  was  took  by  the  Maumees,  an'  a  hull  heap 
o'  the  Maumees  lost  thar  own  ha'r  at  about  the 
same  time.'* 

Scalps  of  red  Indians !    What  an  opening  into 

the  ancient  history  of  America  that  was  to  a  boy 

like  Abe !    They  may  have  been  taken  when  he  was 

a  baby  in  the  cradle,  so  long  ago  was  that  old  time. 

He  was  staring  at  them  in  open-eyed  astonishment 

and  wonder,  when  the  old  man  took  down  from  its 

deer-horn  hooks  a  heavy,  rusty-looking  old  fire- 

104 


OUT    OF    THE    SHADOW 

arm,  upon  which  was  an  equally  rusty  fixed  bay- 
onet, and  shouted : 

"  Jest  look  at  that,  will  you !  It's  from  New 
Orleens!  When  Gineral  Pack'num's  redcoats 
broke  an'  run,  I  jumped  down  from  the  top  of  our 
breastwork,  whar  I'd  been  shootin'  on  'em,  an'  I 
gathered  that  piece,  an'  I  jest  smouged  it  from  the 
officers  that  collected  the  arms,  an'  I  kep'  it  to  this 
day,  to  remember  Gineral  Jackson.  I  dasn't  fire 
it  now,  for  fear  it  might  bust;  but  the  bagonet 
wouldn't  miss  fire,  I  reckon.    Jest  heft  it !  " 

Abe  took  the  old  musket  with  more  pride  than 
he  could  tell.  He  did  not  utter  a  word  while  he 
turned  it  this  way  and  that.  He  even  tried  to  take 
aim  with  it,  and  all  the  while  he  was  internally 
grappling  with  a  new  geographical  formation 
which  he  had  never  known  before.  It  included  the 
Mississippi  River,  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  the  northern 
lakes,  and  all  the  rest  of  the  world.  The  string  of 
scalps  and  the  musket  were  doing  a  great  deal 
toward  making  things  appear  as  realities  at  long 
distances  from  his  own  cabin  and  clearing. 

"  Old  man,"  said  Tom  Lincoln,  "  it's  time  for 

105 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

you  an'  me  to  git  out,  if  we're  to  do  anythin'  wuth 
while  in  the  woods.    Come  along !  " 

"  I'm  with  ye,"  replied  Sansom,  and  out  they 
went,  leaving  Abe  to  be  torn  away  from  the  mili- 
tary trophies  and  his  new  geography  and  history, 
to  be  put  down  at  a  table  with  a  real  bowl  of  milk 
before  him  and  all  the  hominy  he  wanted.  That 
was  the  first  bowl  of  milk  he  had  put  a  spoon  into 
since  he  had  lived  in  the  very  young  State  of  In- 
diana, and  it  was  worth  a  good  deal  to  get  it.  He 
at  once  made  up  his  mind  that  when  he  became  a 
man  he  would  keep  cows,  if  he  had  to  milk  them 
himself.  That  purpose  was  made  stronger  yet  by 
the  unlimited  butter,  as  strange  to  him  as  the  milk 
had  been,  and  his  big  slice  of  corn-bread  quickly 
assumed  a  golden  appearance  which  no  pone  had 
ever  worn  that  he  could  remember. 


106 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  OLD  AND  THE  NEW 

I  HE  open  doorway  of  the  Lincoln  log 
house  put  on  a  look  of  eager  expecta- 
tion, if  not  of  actual  disappointment, 
at  the  hour  when  the  tree  shadows  grew  long,  that 
evening.  The  fire  was  blazing  brightly  and  cook- 
ing was  going  on  before  it,  but  only  Matilda  and 
Sally  Johnston  were  watching  the  corn-bread  in 
the  big  skillet.  Dennis  Hanks  and  John  Johnston 
were  out  at  the  corn-crib,  attending  to  the  pigs,  and 
Mrs.  Lincoln  stood  a  little  inside  the  door,  staring 
away  into  the  forest.  All  she  could  see  there  was 
the  leafless  trees  and  the  increasing  darkness,  and 
she  said,  half  aloud: 

"  Jest  as  I  might  have  expected.  Tom  won't  be 
home  this  night.  I  reckon  nothin'  could  ha'  hap- 
pened to  him,  or  to  Abe.    Tom  an'  the  old  man 

wound  up  thar  hunt  at  the  Sansom  place.    It 

107 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

wouldn't  do  for  them  to  try  comin'  through  the 
woods  any  later'n  this." 

There  she  paused,  and  went  for  a  look  at  the 
skillet,  hut  she  returned  to  the  doorway  and  her 
watching.  She  was  beyond  the  threshold  when  she 
said: 

"  I  feel  kind  o'  queer,  too,  to  be  left  alone  at 
night  in  sech  a  place.  Glad  thar  ain't  any  In j ins 
nowadays.  Away  back,  when  I  was  a  little  gal, 
'fore  the  War  of  1812,  'fore  the  Red  Stick  Creeks 
was  put  under  by  Gineral  Jackson,  that  used  to  be 
what  folks  thought  of,  sometimes,  about  dark.  The 
redskins  used  to  come,  too,  now  an'  then,  an'  when 
they  struck  a  place  it  was  all  up  with  every  soul  in 
it.  They  never  spared  man  or  woman  or  child. 
Oh,  well,  I  wish  he'd  come  home,  but  he  won't. 
What  a  boy  Abe  is !  I  must  try  an'  do  something 
with  him.    He's  wuth  it." 

She  turned,  and  looked  in  at  her  own  girls  and 

Nancy,  and  she  saw  the  two  boys  coming  in.    She 

was  not  to  be  altogether  lonely,  after  all,  and  there 

were  no  real  dangers  of  any  kind  creeping  toward 

her  household. 

108 


THE    OLD    AND    THE    NEW 

Not  a  great  while  after  that  there  was  a  pleasant 
gathering  around  the  Lincoln  fireplace  and  the 
table;  but  there  was  a  larger  one,  with  several 
grown-up  people  in  it  and  twice  as  many  younger, 
in  front  of  the  blazing  hickory  logs  at  old  man 
Sansom's.  He  and  Tom  Lincoln  had  almost  been 
caught  in  the  woods  by  their  great  good  luck.  It 
had  followed  them  all  day,  or  rather  it  had  walked 
on  ahead  of  them,  enticing  them  to  follow  it  up. 
The  yellow-gray  horse  had  behaved  himself  finely, 
always  willing  to  stand  still  as  long  as  might  be 
required  of  him,  and  never  starting  again  until 
made  entirely  sure  that  he  must  go;  but  his  back 
was  a  sight  to  see  when  he  was  once  more  led  within 
the  rail  fence  that  surrounded  his  own  house  and 
stable.  On  his  patient  deck — if  it  might  be  called 
so — was  a  cargo  consisting  of  four  deer  and  nine 
wild  turkeys,  to  bear  witness  to  the  abundance  of 
game  and  the  accurate  marksmanship  of  his  two 
human  companions.  Neither  of  them  was  likely  to 
miss  a  fair  shot  at  any  time,  and  two  such  experts 
together  were  sure  to  be  jealously  shooting  against 
each  other,  as  if  for  a  prize.    They  were  critically 

109 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

discussing  the  several  i^rime  shots  they  had  made, 
long  after  they  had  exhibited  their  return  cargo  to 
the  small  crowd  of  admirers  which  hurried  out  to 
meet  them. 

Old  man  Sansom's  sons  and  sons-in-law  took 
care  of  the  game,  and  the  only  remark  Ahe  was 
heard  to  make  sounded  like : 

"  I  reckon  Pop  and  I'll  have  to  walk  home  to- 
night, an'  how  we're  to  find  the  way  in  the  dark  I 
don't  know." 

It  was  only  a  few  minutes  "before  he  learned 
that  it  would  not  be  necessary  for  him  to  know,  and 
that  he  was  to  sleep  that  night  in  a  bunk  in  the  lean- 
to  behind  the  Sansom  house.  He  had  been  in  a  state 
of  carefully  concealed  excitement  all  day,  seeing 
so  much  and  hearing  so  much,  and  surrounded  by 
such  an  unaccustomed  throng  of  people.  He  had 
taken  looks  at  everything  he  could  get  at,  in  or 
around  the  place — every  horse  and  colt,  every  cow 
and  calf,  every  dog  and  pup,  and,  as  nearly  as 
•  might  be,  every  pig.  There  were  no  hens  or  chick- 
ens to  be  seen,  but  there  was  an  exceedingly  intel- 
ligent tame  raccoon,  which  had  stirred  up  in  his 

110 


THE    OLD    AND    THE    NEW 

visitor  a  determination  to  catch  one  like  him  and 
train  him  up  in  like  manner.  He  said  as  much  to 
old  man  Sansom,  at  the  supper-table. 

"Abe,  my  boy,"  responded  the  always  ready 
story-teller,  "  that's  what  you'd  better  do.  The 
right  time  to  catch  coons  or  possums,  though,  is  in 
the  winter,  when  the  frost's  good  an'  hard.  It's 
about  twenty  year  gone,  now,  down  in  old  Tennes- 
see, that  I  was  out  choppin',  an'  I  kem  across  a 
big  black  walnut-tree  with  a  hole  at  the  root  of  it, 
an'  a  dog  that  was  with  me  began  to  bark  his  head 
off  at  that  hole.  Dogs  mostly  won't  go  after  coons 
in  winter,  but  he  did,  an'  I  set  to  work  on  that  tree 
an'  down  it  kem.  It  was  nigh  four  foot  through  at 
the  butt,  an'  it  was  clean  holler  for  thirty  foot  to 
the  branches.  An',  Abe,  you  wouldn't  believe  me 
— nobody  else  ever  did — but  that  thar  holler  was 
jest  packed  full  o'  coons,  all  as  fat  as  butter  an'  all 
fast  asleep.  I  didn't  try  to  count  'em,  but  I  gath- 
ered no  end  o'  prime  coon-skins,  an'  what  I'd  been 
reely  hopin'  for  was  b'ars.  That  thar  holler  was 
jest  made  for  b'ar.    I  say,  Abe,  what'd  you  think 

o'  findin'  a  pack  o'  b'ar  four  foot  thick  an'  thirty 

111 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

foot  long?  I've  killed  right  smart  o'  b'ar,  too,  but 
they're  gittin'  kind  o'  scurse,  an'  so  is  painters.  I 
mean  to  fetch  in  a  painter  'fore  spring.  I've  heard 
four  on  'em  call  in  the  woods  lately,  or  mebbe  'twas 
the  same  chap  callin'  four  times;  you  can't  'most 
allers  tell." 

It  was  at  about  that  time  that  a  new  idea  began 
to  come  to  Abe  concerning  the  old  man.  It  grew 
out  of  things  which  were  said  by  the  rest  of  the 
family,  and  the  amount  of  it  was  that  all  of  them 
had  heard,  long  since,  about  all  that  he  had  to  tell. 
He  was  an  old  book  which  they  all  had  read,  per- 
haps a  great  many  times,  till  they  knew  it  by  heart. 
Therefore,  during  most  of  his  time,  all  his  wealth 
of  history  had  to  remain  corked  up  within  him, 
and  he  was  all  the  better  pleased  to  have  an  oppor- 
tunity, like  Abe  and  his  father,  to  bring  out  as 
much  of  it  as  he  could  and  give  them  also  the  benefit 
of  it.  Abe,  at  least,  was  more  than  willing  to  have 
him  remain  uncorked,  even  after  Bob  Sansom  had 
meanly  said  something  about  "  that  thar  holler 
black  walnut-tree  havin'  growed  some,  sence  last 
winter  was  a  year  ago.    More  coons  in  it,  too." 

112 


THE    OLD    AND    THE    NEW 

Nevertheless,  the  old  man  was  a  tip-top  nar- 
rator, with  plenty  of  fun  in  him,  and  before  long 
he  was  having  things  pretty  much  his  own  way. 
One  more  thing  there  was  which  helped  the  socia- 
bility amazingly,  and  which  also  illustrated  the 
natural  productiveness  of  those  woods.  It  did  seem 
as  if  the  Sansom  young  people  had  strained  all 
their  capacities  to  gather  all  the  nuts  that  were  to 
be  had.  Hazelnuts  as  good  as  filberts,  walnuts, 
hickory-nuts,  butternuts,  beechnuts,  all  in  profu- 
sion, with  hammers  and  flat-irons  to  crack  them.  It 
was  grand,  and  all  along  with  the  cracking  and 
kernel-picking  ran  the  often  interrupted  ripple  of 
the  story-telling.  Not  only  old  man  Sansom  him- 
self, but  some  of  the  young  men  and  women,  and 
even  Tom  Lincoln,  were  ready  to  contribute  to  the 
stream  now  and  then. 

Abe  found  his  head  becoming  more  and  more 

crowded  with  short  yarns  and  long,  from  the  South 

and  the  North  and  the  West,  and  even  from  the 

Atlantic  shore  and  from  beyond  the  sea.    All  this 

was  what  made  it  so  late  before  bedtime,  and  why 

they  all  but  let  the  fire  die  out ;  and  why,  when  Abe 

113 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

went  and  curled  himself  up  in  his  bunk,  he  shortly 
dreamed  that  it  was  on  a  flatboat,  and  that  in  it  he 
was  gaily  drifting  down  the  Mississippi  Eiver.  In 
his  mind,  as  he  so  drifted,  was  the  purpose  of  sail- 
ing on,  on,  across  the  blue  waters  of  the  Gulf  of 
Mexico,  until  he  should  land  upon  Barrataria 
Island,  among  the  pirates  and  buccaneers  and  Afri- 
can slave-dealers. 

The  next  morning  did  not  come  to  him  as  early 
as  usual.  He  had  no  water  to  bring  from  any  pool, 
nor  did  he  have  any  pigs  to  feed,  nor  wood  to  bring 
from  any  wood-pile.  He  had  a  liberal  breakfast  to 
eat,  however,  and  then  the  claybank  horse  was  at 
the  door.  He  saw  at  once  that  he  had  reasoned 
correctly  about  a  walk  home  for  himself  and  his 
father,  for  no  less  than  four  of  the  turkeys  and  two 
of  the  deer  were  tied  upon  the  animal's  ample  back, 
and  old  man  Sansom  remarked : 

"  'Tain't  no  more'n  your  sheer,  Tom.  An'  be- 
sides, you  must  stick  to  your  choppin',  an'  your 
goin'  to  the  river  arter  them  winders.  An'  we've 
four  rifles,  ready  to  go  out,  any  time  we  run  ashore, 

for  fresh  meat.    'Tisn't  like  sech  a  house  as  your'n 

114 


THE    OLD    AND    THE    NEW 

is,  with  only  one  gun  in  it.  Sometimes  our  deer 
come  a'most  in  range  from  the  door.  I  lived  in  a 
house  once  whar  all  ye  had  to  do  was  only  to  sit  on 
the  door-sill  an'  wait  for  'em;  if  ye  was  willin'  to 
wait  long  enough,  they  was  sure  to  come,  an'  all 
ye  had  to  do  was  to  drop  'em  an'  fetch  'em  in. 
Tell  your  wife  we're  all  comin'  over  to  see  her 
soon's  we  can,  an'  she  must  be  neighborly.  We'd 
like  to  have  her  step  over  here  any  time,  an'  fetch 
her  gals  along.  We're  mighty  glad  to  have  some- 
body livin'  next  door,  as  it  were,  an'  they  say  thar's 
a  heap  more  a-comin'  on  in  the  spring.  I  jest  do 
hope  they'll  come !  " 

It  would  have  required  another  broad-backed 
horse  to  have  carried  all  the  good-will,  in  addition 
to  the  game,  when  Abe  and  his  father  set  out  for 
home.  That  is,  Abe  led  the  horse  and  cargo,  while 
Mr.  Lincoln  strode  on  ahead,  rifle  in  hand,  with  a 
sharp  lookout  for  game,  as  if  he  were  not  well 
enough  supplied  already.  Abe  had  no  rifle,  but  his 
eyes  were  busy,  for  he  had  heard  things  at  San- 
som's  which  had  burdened  him  with  an  idea  that 
among  the  branches  of  those  gigantic  trees  he  might 

115 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

at  any  moment  catch  a  glimpse  of  one  of  the  cou- 
gars, or  "  painters,"  whose  voices  had  been  told  of 
as  making  music  in  the  night. 

The  homeward  distance  did  not  amount  to  any- 
thing for  a  hoy  who  was  on  the  lookout  for  wild 
beasts  in  tall  trees ;  but  as  they  were  at  last  entering 
their  own  clearing,  Abe  suddenly  began  to  feel  that 
he  had  undergone  a  change  of  character.  Instead 
of  being  a  possible  cougar-hunter,  he  was  turning 
into  a  kind  of  triumphal  procession.  It  was  not 
altogether  the  claybank  horse,  nor  his  father,  nor 
even  the  load  of  game,  that  did  it.  Vastly  more 
effective  than  anything  else  was  the  enormous  list 
of  news  items  which  he  had  collected  for  his  good 
mother,  and  which  he  felt  sure  she  would  be  glad 
of.  He  had  been  setting  them  in  order  for  her,  all 
the  way,  and  was  eager  for  an  opportunity  to  un- 
load. Just  behind  this  part  of  his  precious  gather- 
ings was  a  consciousness  of  the  extraordinary 
quantity  of  brand-new  yams  which  he  would  now 
be  able  to  distribute  to  Xancy,  Dennis,  Matilda,  and 
Sally.  Neither  of  them  had  ever  heard  the  yarns 
before,  whatever  might  be  the  misfortune,  in  that^ 

116 


THE    OLD    AND    THE    NEW 

respect,  of  the  Sansom  family.  He  did  not  know 
that  he  had  been  in  a  first-rate  kind  of  frontier 
school,  for  it  was  as  if  at  least  a  month  of  hard 
study  had  gone  over  him  while  he  was  inspecting 
his  new  neighbors,  who  were  in  their  own  opinion 
so  very  near. 

Something  of  the  same  idea  concerning  near- 
ness appeared  to  be  entertained  by  Mrs.  Lincoln 
herself,  and  it  was  only  a  little  while  after  he 
reached  the  house  that  she  put  down  one  of  the 
wild  turkevs  to  exclaim: 

"  Now,  Tom,  I'm  so  glad  of  it  all.  They're  right 
down  good  people,  and  I  kind  o'  feel  safer,  an'  not 
quite  so  lonely.  I'll  feel  better,  while  you're  gone 
to  the  river  after  the  things.  It's  real  good  to  have 
neighbors." 

The  fact  that  she  had  so  much  to  say  to  him 
left  Abe  altogether  at  the  mercy  of  the  rest  of  the 
family,  and  they  went  through  him  as  if  he  had 
been  the  latest  edition  of  the  Big  Pigeon  Creek  Oc- 
casional News  and  Advertiser.  If  the  journal  indi- 
cated were  not  exactly  printed,  it  was  at  least  quite 
full  of  interesting  matter,  some  of  which  might 

117 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

even  rank  as  selected  fiction.  All  newspapers  do 
more  or  less  with  fiction,  especially  in  their  accounts 
of  battles  and  of  occurrences  in  foreign  lands,  not 
to  leave  out  their  accounts  of  successful  hunting 
and  fishing,  such  as  Abe's. 

The  laying  of  the  puncheons  was  finished  that 
afternoon,  and  a  sufficient  amount  of  corn  had  been 
hulled  for  immediate  use.  It  would,  therefore,  be 
well  for  Mr.  Lincoln  to  set  out  on  his  errands  the 
next  morning,  with  the  claybank  for  company. 

Morning  came,  and  there  was  no  manner  of  de- 
lay about  their  going,  for  Mrs.  Lincoln  sent  them. 
No  sooner  were  they  out  of  sight  on  the  crooked 
road,  than  the  energetic  manager  of  the  family 
affairs  set  all  her  young  assistants  at  work.  Their 
first  duty  was  to  bring  water  from  the  pool  and  fill 
to  the  brim  another  barrel  which  she  had  found  on 
the  place,  and  two  more  which  had  been  in  the 
wagon  among  her  own  goods,  and  which  were  now 
empty. 

"  Thar's  no  cistern,"  she  said,  "  but  I  won't  be 

ketched  in  any  snow-storm  with  no  water  nigher 

than  that  thar  pool.    We  might  all  git  awful  dry 

118 


THE    OLD    AND    THE    NEW 

'fore   we   could   git   to   it,   in   some    storms   I've 


seen." 


They  had  to  become  drawers  of  water,  there- 
fore; and  if  they  were  not  also  hewers  of  wood, 
they  at  least  had  to  pick  up  and  bring  to  the  house 
quantities  of  big  chips  and  branches  which  Mr. 
Lincoln  had  made  ready  for  them  in  his  chopping. 
He  had  thought  of  it,  himself,  for  he  had  made 
short  cuts  of  many  of  the  larger  branches.  All 
things  within  doors  were  bright  and  cheerful  when 
evening  came,  and  Mrs.  Lincoln  looked  around  her 
from  the  supper- table,  smilingly,  to  say: 

"  Bless  my  soul !  I've  seen  rooms  with  carpets 
on  the  floor  that  didn't  show  any  tidier  than  this 
does.  I'm  glad  we're  all  here,  an'  I  reckon  your 
father  can  finish  up  an'  git  back  to-morrer  night." 

There  was  nothing  but  the  red  glow  from  the 
fire  to  see  it  by,  and  Abe,  too,  had  been  making  an 
inspection. 

"  Tell  you  what,  mother,"  he  said,  "  one  o'  the 

big  things  at  old  man  Sansom's  is  a  lard-oil  lamp, 

with  a  wick  an'  a  glass  chimbley.    It'll  light  up  a 

hull  room;  but  Mrs.  Bob  Sansom  says  she  doesn't 

9  119 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

set  it  a-goin'  often,  'cause  it  uses  up  secli  an  all- 
killin'  lot  o'  lard.  But  they  lit  it  when  we  were 
thar,  an'  it  burnt  till  it  burnt  the  chimbley  black  as 
tar." 

"We  can't  have  one  jest  yet,"  she  told  him, 
"  but  I  mean  we  shall,  one  o'  these  days.  I've  seen 
some  that  didn't  black  the  chimbley.  Now,  you  jest 
go  ahead  an'  tell  us  what  else  you  saw,  an'  who  was 
thar,  an'  what  they  said.  I've  been  so  busy  I 
couldn't  git  at  you  'bout  it  till  now." 

Abe's  tongue  was  let  loose,  and  she  might  as 
well  have  set  a  young  river  going.  This  was  one 
thing  he  had  been  waiting  for,  and  all  that  he  had 
previously  half  told  was  now  in  better  shape  to  be 
told  over  again.  No  kind  of  story  goes  off  at  its 
best  the  first  time  it  tries.  There  are  always  some 
things  that  were  forgotten,  and  some  others  which 
ought  to  be  tacked  on  to  make  it  sound  right.  The 
art  of  tacking  on  the  missing  things  is  what  makes 
one  historian  a  better  novelist  than  another. 

"  It's  jest  as  I  said  about  you,  Abe,"  said  his 

mother  thoughtfully,  at  last.    "  You  didn't  miss  a 

thing.    You  may  go  to  bed  now,  but  I  want  to  hear 

120 


THE    OLD    AND    THE    NEW 

the  rest  of  it  to-morrer  night — esiDecially  about  the 
cows.  An'  what's  more,  I'm  gwine  to  make  Betty 
Sansom  give  me  one  o'  them  pups.  What  this  house 
needs  is  a  dog  o'  some  sort,  an'  he'd  better  be  started 
on  the  place  while  he's  young;  then  he  won't  run 
away,  first  chance  he  gits." 

The  time  had  arrived  for  the  boys  to  go  up- 
stairs, but  Abe  was  still  thinking  of  the  dog  ques- 
tion. He  was  half-way  up  the  pegs,  when  he  paused 
to  turn  around  and  hang  on  while  he  said: 

"  Mother,  one  o'  them  dogs  o'  Sansom's  is  as 
big  as  a  calf.  It  doesn't  take  so  much  to  feed  him, 
nuther.    He  ketches  his  own  rabbits." 

"  That's  the  kind  I  want,"  she  told  him.  "  The 
wust  o'  some  dogs  is  thar  keep,  an'  if  you  don't 
feed  'em  they  git  to  be  all  skin  an'  ribs.  I  knew 
a  dog  once  that'd  stay  fat  on  corn  pone.  But  they're 
scurce,  I  reckon." 

It  was  only  seventeen  miles  to  the  store  or  tra- 
ding station  where  Tom  Lincoln  expected  to  make 
his  purchases,  and  his  wife  was  right  about  his 
being  able  to  get  home  next  day.  He  was  aided, 
indeed,  by  the  claybank,  and  was  urged  onward  by 

121 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

the  first  flurries  of  a  coming  storm  of  snow.  The 
warmest  kind  of  welcome  awaited  him,  and  a  good 
dinner ;  but  hardly  had  he  risen  from  the  table  be- 
fore the  work  of  putting  in  the  new  windows  had 
to  begin.  It  did  not  take  a  great  while,  and  when 
it  was  done  there  was,  for  the  first  time  in  its  his- 
tory, a  fair  amount  of  light  in  the  house  after  its 
door  was  shut.  That  also  could  now  receive  some 
attention,  with  an  assurance  that  an  entirely  new 
one  would  have  to  take  its  place  as  soon  as  tree- 
trunks  could  be  sawed  into  boards  for  the  purpose. 

"  The  cuttin'  through  o'  the  back  door  can  wait 
a  bit,"  said  Mrs.  Lincoln.  "  The  lean-to  must  go 
up  first,  but  all  the  firewood  must  be  fetched  an' 
stacked  agin  the  house,  both  sides  o'  the  door ;  it'll 
be  a  fender  from  the  weather,  an'  it'll  be  right 
handy.  The  shoats  have  all  come  up  to  the  crib, 
an'  what  they  need  thar  is  a  rail  pen  to  keep  off 
the  snow  from  'em.  Thar'll  be  plenty  for  us  to  do 
the  rest  o'  this  winter." 

It  looked  as  if  there  would  be,  now  somebody 
had  come  to  boss  the  doing  of  it  and  make  sure 
that  it  was  not  neglected.    Moreover,  one  of  the 

122 


THE    OLD    AND    THE    NEW 

features  of  the  improved  situation  was  the  effect  it 
was  having  upon  Mr.  Thomas  Lincoln.  The  activ- 
ity insisted  upon  appeared  to  be  doing  him  good, 
and  he  was  notably  cheerful  as  he  went  on  from 
one  thing  to  another.  When  he  first  took  a  look  at 
the  full  water-barrels,  he  exclaimed : 

"  Gineral  Jackson !  I  never  thought  o'  that.  I 
didn't  have  but  one  barr'l,  nohow.  Tell  ye  what, 
when  spring  comes  I'll  dig  holes  an'  sink  'em,  an' 
the  water'll  keep  cool  in  hot  weather,  if  you  kiver 
'em  up.  Besides,  I'll  do  as  she  says,  an'  fence  in 
the  pool,  so's  to  keep  the  hogs  out  of  it.  Hogs'U 
spile  any  water  for  drinkin'.  But  I'll  chop  some 
more  wood  to-morrer,  storm  or  no  storm." 

That  was  what  he  intended  to  do,  but  there  was 
no  such  piece  of  work  before  him.  After  dark,  that 
evening,  he  was  industriously  shifting  the  wood- 
piles to  their  new  places  near  the  door,  assisted  by 
the  boys  and  girls,  and  under  strict  direction,  but 
they  had  not  completed  their  job  when  they  all  were 
compelled  to  go  into  the  house.  It  was  not  the  in- 
creasing gloom  only  that  put  an  end  to  their  going 
and  coming.   A  great  cold  wind  from  the  north  had 

123 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

arrived,  with  a  backload  of  driving  snow.  It  came 
sweeping  on  over  the  tops  of  the  trees  until  it 
reached  the  clearing;  then  it  made  a  dive  which 
appeared  to  be  aimed  mainly  at  the  door  of  the 
cabin ;  it  smote  vigorously  upon  the  roof ;  it  rattled 
the  new  windows;  it  tried  to  push  in  the  door;  it 
howled  angrily  down  the  chimney;  it  went  to  the 
pole-shelter  and  screeched  in  at  the  claybank  horse, 
and  then  it  traveled  on  southward.  But  Mrs.  Lin- 
coln remarked: 

"  Abe,  I  reckon  this  is  one  o'  the  blows  old  man 
Sansom  was  tellin'  of.  You  said  he  said  it  would 
last  about  three  days.  I  don't  keer  if  it  does ;  we're 
all  ready  for  it  now." 


124 


CHAPTER  VIII 

NEW    SCHOOLS 

jOME  things — a  great  storm,  for  in- 
stance— may  make  a  tremendous  blus- 
ter without  accomplishing  anything 
else  of  importance.  "When  morning  came,  it  was 
discovered  that  but  little  snow  had  fallen,  and  that 
in  the  woods  it  had  made  nothing  but  a  pretty  white 
carpet,  which  would  not  interfere  with  either  hunt- 
ing or  chopping.  As  for  hunting,  indeed,  such  a 
snow  was  an  enemy  of  the  wild  animals,  for  it  com- 
pelled them  to  leave  trails  which  their  pursuers 
might  follow.  No  more  game  was  needed  at  the 
Lincoln  place  right  away,  however,  and  the  busi- 
ness of  improvement  might  go  on  uninterrupted  by 
any  excursions  after  deer  or  turkeys.  Mrs.  Lincoln 
herself  had  an  altogether  different  undertaking  on 
her  mind,  for  Abe  had  brought  home  from  San- 
som's  one  particularly  important  piece  of  informa- 
tion. 

125 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

"  That's  what  I  wanted  to  know ! "  she  ex- 
claimed when  she  heard  it.  "  Abe,  if  thar's  to  be 
any  kind  o'  school  over  on  Little  Pigeon  Creek  this 
winter,  the  hull  lot  o'  ye  have  got  to  go  to  it.  Only 
a  mile  an'  a  half  to  school?  Why,  I  had  to  travel 
twice  that  distance  sometimes,  and  it  wasn't  much 
of  a  school,  nuther.  I'm  gwine  to  take  the  claybank 
to-morrer  mornin'  an'  go  over  an'  see  what  it  is. 
The  children  must  learn  somethin'." 

That  was  a  thing  that  made  the  house  appear 

quiet  and  sober  all  that  day,  as  if  the  shadow  of 

knowledge  to  come  might  be  settling  down  into  it. 

All  of  them  had  been  to  school,  more  or  less,  over 

in  Kentucky,  but  none  of  them  had  heretofore  been 

in  fear  of  any  such  thing  here  in  the  safety  of  the 

woods.    They  talked  about  it  almost  gloomily,  and 

wondered  among  themselves  what  sort  of  machine 

it  would  prove  to  be.    Not  the  least  interesting  of 

their  mutual  inquiries  and  forebodings  related  to 

the  great  question  of  whether  or  not  the  teacher 

of  the  reported  school  was  in  the  habit  of  "  puttin' 

on  the  gad."    They  were  aware  that  there  were  wide 

differences  of  method  and  management  in  that  re- 

126 


NEW    SCHOOLS 

spect  among  men  of  learning.  There  were  said  to 
be  schoolmasters,  indeed,  who  believed  that  no  boy 
could  really  do  well  with  his  letters  and  figures 
without  frequent  assistance  from  a  stout  switch. 
These  were  apt,  too,  to  be  faithful  men,  ready  at 
any  moment  to  do  their  whole  duty.  As  to  that 
matter,  however,  Nancy  had  an  idea  which  was  of 
more  than  a  little  comfort  to  half  of  them. 

"  I  don't  keer,"  she  said ;  "  the  lickin's  all  go  to 
the  boys.  Over  in  Caleb  Hazel's  school,  when  any 
o'  the  girls  had  been  cuttin'  up,  he  used  to  lay  it  all 
onto  some  o'  the  boys,  an'  didn't  they  ketch  it! 
I  reckon  they  did.    Served  'em  right,  too." 

"  That's  so,"  replied  Matilda  Johnston.  "  Abe 
an'  John  an'  Dennis  can  take  all  the  whackin'  that 
belongs  to  this  house.    I  don't  want  any." 

The  general  subject  of  education  was  taking  a 
strong  hold  upon  Abe's  own  mind,  for  it  fitted  in 
with  a  number  of  the  new  things  which  he  had  been 
hearing.  There  was  now  at  least  one  book  in  the 
house,  and  before  the  day  was  over  he  had  it  spread 
open  wide  upon  the  table.  If  he  could  not  read  it, 
he  could  turn  over  the  broad  leaves  and  stare  at 

127 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

the  pictures,  of  which  there  were  several.  These 
were  truly  remarkable  woodcuts,  of  the  kind  that 
ornamented  most  of  the  earlier  editions  of  the  Bible 
which  were  printed  in  this  country.  The  first  of 
them  to  really  fasten  his  attention  was  a  vivid  rep- 
resentation of  the  Flood.  It  was  a  vast  waste  of 
rough  water,  in  which  trees,  rocks,  human  be- 
ings, and  wild  animals  appeared  to  be  floating  or 
swimming  vaguely  around  in  the  neighborhood 
of  the  ark. 

"  Old  man  Sansom  told  me,"  remarked  Abe, 
"  that  he  saw  jest  sech  a  flood  as  that  is,  'way  down 
the  Mississippi,  only  he  didn't  say  anybody 
drowned.  I'd  like  to  see  one  on  'em,  an'  I  will,  some 
day." 

There  was  a  great  deal  to  be  learned  from  the 
Flood,  but  after  a  while  he  turned  from  that  to  an 
accurate  picture  of  David  slaying  Goliath.  The 
victor  in  that  memorable  duel  appeared  to  be  a  boy 
not  much  taller  than  Abe  himself,  while  the  giant, 
by  comparison,  was  a  man  who  could  have  picked 
chestnuts  from  a  tree  top. 

"  Wal,"  said  Abe  doubtfully,  "  I  don't  see  how 

128 


NEW    SCHOOLS 

he  could  ha'  hove  a  rock  o'  that  size.  But  I'll  make 
a  sling  an'  try  it  on." 

He  tired  of  that,  and  turned  the  leaves  till  he 
came  to  a  picture  of  the  Israelites  crossing  the  Red 
Sea,  by  way  of  a  road  about  wide  enough  for  one 
wagon,  and  that  had  great  cliffs  and  crags  of  water 
on  each  side  of  it.  The  runaways  from  the  land  of 
Pharaoh  and  trouble  were  marching  four  abreast, 
and  it  occurred  to  him : 

"  I  think  they  ought  to  ha'  cleared  out  that  track 
a  little  wider." 

On  he  went  until  he  had  wearily  studied  every 
work  of  art  in  that  big  book.  Then  he  shut  it  up, 
because  the  table  was  needed  for  supper,  and  he  did 
not  at  all  know  that  his  first  picture-gallery  had 
been  to  him  something  like  a  small  library,  full  of 
instruction. 

Mrs.  Lincoln  was  as  good  as  her  word,  in  the 
morning,  although  she  had  to  ride  the  claybank 
without  any  saddle.  He  did  not  seem  to  care,  and 
she  never  spoke  about  it.  All  the  frontier  women 
were  well  accustomed  to  bareback  riding,  and  so 
were  all  the  men.    What  she  really  needed,  indeed, 

129 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

■was  to  obtain  a  reasonably  clear  idea  of  liow  she 
was  to  find  her  way  to  the  neighborhood  of  the  log- 
built  meeting-house  and  the  log  schoolhouse  that 
was  near  it,  on  Little  Pigeon  Creek.  Her  husband 
offered  to  accompany  her,  and  so  did  Abe,  but  she 
rejected  both  propositions.  The  entire  family  gath- 
ered at  the  door  to  see  her  ride  away,  and  they 
gazed  after  her  with  an  unanimous  opinion  that 
tremendous  consequences  must  depend  upon  the 
doing  of  such  an  errand  by  such  a  woman. 

It  was  not  until  nearly  nightfall  that  the  clay- 
bank  returned  with  his  invaluable  burden,  but  he 
had  done  his  duty  for  the  cause  of  education.  Mrs. 
Lincoln  was  able  to  call  out,  even  before  she  dis- 
mounted : 

"  Tom,  I  did  it.  I  saw  old  Dorsey  that  teaches 
the  school.  It's  in  sech  a  cabin  as  I  expected.  You 
can't  but  jest  stand  up  straight  in  it,  an'  thar's 
greased  paper  for  winder-glass,  an'  thar's  a  punch- 
eon floor,  an'  that's  somethin'." 

"Glad  you  found  him,  an'  right  down  glad 
you're  home  ag'in,"  he  responded.  "  We  were  git- 
tin'  kind  o'  anxious  'bout  you." 

130 


NEW    SCHOOLS 

"  You  needn't,  then,"  she  said.  "  But  he  was 
right  down  glad  to  hear  o'  six  new  scholars,  an'  it'll 
make  his  school  half  as  large  ag'in  as  it  was;  but 
if  they  keep  on  comin'  in,  he  may  have  nigh  onto 
two  dozen  'fore  spring.  He  'pears  to  be  a  decent 
sort  o'  man,  with  a  kind  o'  rope-colored  beard,  an' 
he's  jest  powerful  polite." 

After  she  was  in  the  house  she  had  so  many 
more  things  to  tell,  in  her  delight  over  her  success, 
that  the  young  people  hardly  had  a  chance  to 
ask  questions.  The  fact  was  that  she  answered  a 
great  many  more  than  she  could  have  asked. 
At  all  events,  they  were  compelled  to  make  up 
their  minds  that  they  were  to  be  condemned  to 
the  pursuit  of  knowledge  under  the  care  of  Mr. 
Hazel  Dorsey,  whether  or  not  he  was  a  whipping 
teacher. 

One  point  which  Mrs.  Lincoln  had  ascertained 
was  of  great  importance  in  a  region  where  there 
were  no  bookstores.  She  had  been  told  that  there 
were  already  in  the  schoolhouse  almost  enough  text- 
books to  go  around.    Any  deficiency  in  that  respect 

was  to  be  remedied  easily  by  putting  two  scholars 

131 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

on  one  book,  whenever  they  were  digging  at  the 
same  task. 

"  That's  all  right,"  thought  Abe;  "  then  neither 
on  'em'll  be  gittin'  on  ahead  o'  the  other.  It's  jest 
fair  to  both  on  'em." 

"  When  are  they  to  begin  to  go  ? "  asked  Mr. 
Lincoln  dubiously.  "  If  thar's  much  more  snow  to 
fall,  they  can't  git  thar  reg'lar  every  day." 

"  Wal,"  said  his  wife,  "  it's  the  first  week  o' 
December.  I  want  'em  to  start  in  now,  so's  to  git 
right  smart  a-goin'  'fore  Christmas.  Old  man  Dor- 
sey's  gwine  to  spend  that  an'  New  Year's  Day  with 
his  friends  in  Kentucky.  I  don't  feel  quite  sure 
when  he'll  git  back.  I've  known  men  to  go 
away " 

There  she  paused,  and  went  to  put  a  stick  of 
wood  on  the  fire.  The  records  of  all  that  region 
were  full  of  memories  of  individuals  who  went  to 
pay  visits,  of  one  sort  or  another,  and  whose  ab- 
sences had  been  continuous. 

From  the  moment  of  Mrs.  Lincoln's  return,  and 
as  if  she  had  brought  it  with  her  on  the  claybank, 
a  different  spirit  began  to  work  its  way  around 

132 


NEW    SCHOOLS 

among  the  young  people.  Swelling  rapidly  within 
them  was  an  enthusiasm  concerning  Hazel  Dorsey 
and  his  log-house  academy,  and  an  hourly  increas- 
ing curiosity  relating  to  the  other  boys  and  girls 
with  whom  they  were  so  soon  to  become  acquainted. 

"  Some  on  'em'll  be  bigger'n  we  are,  an'  some 
won't,"  remarked  Dennis  combatively,  "  but  I  ain't 
gwine  to  take  any  kind  o'  sass  from  'em — no,  sir! 
An'  I  reckon  Nancy  an'  the  girls  won't,  nuther." 

There  was  a  vigorous  chorus  of  assent  to  that 
proposition.  Then  the  discussion  of  the  general 
subject  of  education  died  out  into  thoughtfulness 
concerning  the  morrow,  and  the  pupils  that  were 
to  be  went  to  bed  full  of  all  kinds  of  dreams  con- 
cerning the  state  of  social  affairs  on  Little  Pigeon 
Creek. 

When  morning  came,  Mr.  Lincoln  himself  at- 
tended to  the  wood-pile  and  the  pigs,  while  Mrs. 
Lincoln  anxiously  busied  herself  with  the  outfit  of 
her  student  folk.  They  had  neither  cloaks  nor  over- 
coats, but  there  were  comfortable  leggings  to  be  put 
on,  for  she  appeared  to  have  an  abundant  pro- 
vision of  such  things  among  her  household  goods. 

133 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

They  were  comfortable  things  to  have,  although 
the  snow  was  not  deep  and  the  distance  was  not 
considered  worth  mentioning,  for  going  to  school 
on  the  frontier. 

Quite  a  procession  at  last  walked  out  of  the 
Lincoln  clearing,  and  it  began  its  march  almost  dig- 
nifiedly,  gazed  after  with  loving  eyes  by  the  good 
and  thoughtful  woman  who  had  set  it  going.  Beside 
her  in  the  doorway  stood  her  husband,  and  he,  too, 
was  both  pleased  and  thoughtful. 

"  Sally,"  he  said  to  her,  "  I  do  hope  they'll  make 
out  to  learn  somethin'.  Sometimes  I  kind  o'  think 
that  if  I'd  had  more  to  do  with  schools  an'  books 
when  I  was  little — wal,  I  dunno — it  might  ha'  been 
wuth  somethin'  to  me — I  can't  say  exactly  what. 
But  I'm  glad  you  know  more'n  I  do." 

"  I  mean  they  shall  learn  all  they  can,"  she  told 
him.  "  I'm  gittin'  a  cur'ous  notion  'bout  that  boy 
Abe.  I  never  did  see  another  jest  like  him.  I 
always  said  so,  over  in  Kentucky.  Thar's  the 
makin'  of  a  man  in  him,  onless  I'm  awfully  mis- 
taken." 

"He's  pretty  bright,"   admitted  Mr.  Lincoln, 

134 


NEW    SCHOOLS 

"but  nobody  can  tell  wbat's  in  a  boy  no  older'n 
he  is.    Reckon  we'll  see  better  by  an'  by." 

The  procession  started  well  enough,  and  it  went 
on  two  and  two  for  a  considerable  distance,  appear- 
ing to  despise  altogether  the  light  and  fleecy  snow 
carpet  that  it  kicked  aside.  Then  a  rabbit  dashed 
across  the  path,  which  was  no  path  at  all,  and  the 
boys  at  once  began  to  talk  about  dogs.  The  call 
of  a  wild  turkey  was  heard  away  otf  at  the  right, 
and  the  column  broke  all  to  pieces  in  an  eager  rush 
which  resulted  in  only  one  fleeting  glimpse  of  a 
great  bird  getting  safely  away  from  unarmed  hunt- 
ers and  huntresses.  The  march  was  resumed,  but 
its  order  was  no  more  what  it  had  been,  and  it 
needed  only  a  gang  of  deer,  half  a  mile  farther  on, 
to  make  them  all  half  wish  that  there  were  to  be 
no  books  for  them  that  day. 

There  were  not  to  be  a  great  many.  When  they 
reached  the  bit  of  a  log  coop  which  served  as  the 
young  seminary,  they  discovered  that  one  thing  and 
another  had  made  them  late,  in  spite  of  all  the  care 
of  Mrs.  Lincoln.  The  procession  halted  to  recon- 
noiter,  for  it  understood  that  the  other  scholars 
10  135 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

must  already  be  in  their  seats.  The  shrill  voice, 
indeed,  of  some  boy  who  was  undergoing  a  difficult 
lesson  might  have  been  heard  quite  a  distance  into 
the  woods.  That  part  of  his  morning  exercises 
plainly  related  to  good  school  discipline,  order,  and 
respect  for  the  head  of  the  academy.  He  was  likely 
to  remember  for  some  time  a  teaching  which  was 
so  liberally  punctuated.  The  newcomers  also  were 
receiving  information. 

"  Thar !  "  exclaimed  Dennis,  "  he's  ketchin'  it ! 
I  say,  Abe,  most  likely  your  turn'll  come  next.  Oh, 
but  won't  you  jest  holler ! " 

Abe  did  not  say  anything,  for  the  procession 
was  again  in  motion,  and  he  was  at  the  head  of  it, 
thinking  deeply  concerning  the  proper  method  for 
breaking  into  that  schoolhouse.  For  that  very  rea- 
son, however,  and  being  absorbed  in  thought,  he 
missed  the  right  way,  and  led  his  detachment,  or 
reenforcement,  straight  on  into  the  fort,  without 
so  much  as  hailing  the  garrison  by  knocking  at  the 
door.  More  than  that,  he  was  leading  them  dar- 
ingly forward,  and  they  all  were  following  reck- 
lessly,  when  a   gruff   voice   came  from   a   short 

136 


NEW    SCHOOLS 

man  who  had  just  laid  down  a  limber-looking 
switch. 

"  Stop  right  thar !  "  he  commanded.  "  Now, 
walk  back  to  the  door !  Stand  still !  Face  this  way ! 
Look  straight  at  me !  Bow !  Say  '  Good  morning, 
Mr.  Dorsey.'    All  of  you  say  it,  once  more." 

Each  of  his  orders  had  been  promptly  obeyed, 
at  first  with  some  confusion,  and  then  with  better 
precision.  The  second  chorus  of  "  Good  morning, 
Mr.  Dorsey,"  was  done  very  well,  if  Abe  had  not 
instantly  led  off  in  a  third,  which  was  superfluous. 
Nevertheless,  Mr.  Dorsey  said,  with  dignity: 

"  Now  you  may  come  forward  and  shake  hands. 
I  am  glad  to  see  you  all,  and  to  have  given  you  your 
first  lesson  in  good  manners.  One  of  the  most  im- 
portant things  in  this  world  is  to  know  how  to  git 
into  a  room  and  how  to  git  out  of  it  with  propriety. 
Most  people  don't  know  how.  Now,  my  next  duty 
is  to  diskiver  jest  how  much  each  one  of  you  al- 
ready knows  about  books,  especially  'bout  the  cor- 
rect spellin'  of  words.  Thar  is  really  nothing  of 
more  importance  than  learning  how  to  spell  your 
native  tongue  correctly.    I  will  begin  with  the  girls. 

137 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

The  boys  will  also  step  back  two  steps,  and  stan' 
right  thar  ontil  their  names  are  called  by  me." 

Dennis  and  John  and  Abe  stepped  back,  while 
Nancy  and  Sally  and  Matilda  bravely  faced  Mr. 
Dorsey.  They  did  pretty  well  with  their  spelling, 
too,  until  he  cruelly  broke  them  all  down,  one  after 
another,  with  dreadfully  tangled  words  of  three  and 
four  syllables  each. 

"  That  will  do,"  he  said.  "  Go  to  your  seats. 
Now  for  the  boys.  It  is  probable  that  they  will  not 
do  so  well.  Girls  a'most  always  do  thar  hard 
spellin'  better'n  boys  do.  It  comes  nat'ral  to  'em. 
Abraham ! " 

The  seats  spoken  of  were  rough  plank  sofas, 
without  any  other  backing  than  the  log  walls  behind 
them.  They  were  taken,  however,  and  then  there 
was  complete  attention  paid,  all  around  the  room, 
by  every  young  student  in  it,  while  Abraham  Lin- 
coln stood  firmly  and  spelled  correctly  the  first 
word  given  him.  It  was  one  he  had  learned  long 
ago  at  his  first  school  in  Kentucky,  and  it  may  have 
been  the  only  one,  for  he  did  not  hit  the  mark  again, 

although  he  was  made  to  fire  a  number  of  verbal 

138 


"  Look  straight  at  me  !     Bow  !  " 


NEW    SCHOOLS 

shots.  He  was  not  lonely,  however,  for  his  two 
companions  appeared  to  become  panicky  and  made 
out  somewhat  worse  than  he  did. 

"  Go  and  sit  down ! "  commanded  the  school- 
master. "  It  is  jest  as  I  was  expecting.  Spellin' 
will  always  be  done  better  by  girls  than  by  boys, 
and  how  to  account  for  it  I  do  not  know.  It  is  so 
of  some  other  things." 

He  did  not  see  fit  to  specify  any  of  the  other 
things  which  he  did  not  know,  but  that  was  made  a 
day  of  trial  to  all  his  pujDils,  especially  to  the  new- 
comers. There  was  one  patch  of  blue  sky  in  it, 
nevertheless,  for  he  carried  that  rare  luxury,  a 
watch,  and  an  hour  came  when,  after  gazing  sternly 
upon  the  open  face  of  it,  he  declared  that  the  time 
for  the  accustomed  recess  had  duly  arrived.  Then 
the  scholars  were  all  called  upon  to  stand  up  in 
their  places  and  bow  to  him.  That  being  done,  they 
were  at  liberty  to  attend  to  their  several  luncheons 
of  cold  venison,  corn-bread,  bacon,  or  turkey,  and 
to  take  up  the  important  business  of  getting  better 
acquainted  with  each  other.  It  was  taken  up,  and 
the  number  and  kinds  of  questions  which  flew  back 

139 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

and  forth  were  extraordinary.  The  feeling  grew 
rapidly  among  them  that  something  like  a  "  settle- 
ment "  was  beginning  to  gather  in  the  woods  along 
the  borders  of  Big  and  Little  Pigeon  Creeks.  One 
of  the  boys  took  pains  to  explain  to  John  Johnston 
that  the  difference  between  those  two  names  did 
not  at  all  refer  to  the  respective  sizes  of  any  winged 
creatures,  but  rather  to  the  quantities  of  water  flow- 
ing in  the  indicated  hollows. 

"Wal,"  he  further  explained,  "they're  big  an' 
little,  most  o'  the  time ;  but  when  thar's  any  kind  o' 
fresh  a-runnin',  one  on  'em's  as  big  as  the  other, 
an'  a  boss  can't  wade  either  on  'em." 

School  was  dismissed  long  enough  before  sun- 
set to  give  even  the  scholars  who  came  from  long 
distances  a  chance  to  reach  their  homes  before  dark, 
and  they  were  all  very  ready  to  do  so.  So  was  the 
schoolmaster  himself;  but  he  did  his  last  duties 
concerning  good  manners,  for  he  made  his  flock 
march  out  of  its  educational  fold  in  single  file,  in  a 
perfectly  orderly  manner,  and  this  was  a  great 
credit  to  him. 

Once  in  the  woods  again,  the  members  of  the 

140 


NEW    SCHOOLS 

Lincoln  brigade  quickly  lost  their  manners,  and 
tliey  might  also  have  lost  their  way  if  it  had  not 
been  for  the  footmarks  in  the  snow  which  they 
themselves  had  made  that  morning,  and  for  the  fact 
that  the  road  was  "  blazed  "  for  them,  part  of  the 
distance,  by  ax-marks  on  the  trees. 

"  Old  man  Sansom  says,"  Abe  told  them,  "  that 
the  Injins  make  blaze  marks  that  a  white  man  can't 
find — not  onless  he's  lived  among  'em  an'  fonnd 
out  how  they  do  it.  He  knew  a  feller  once  that 
could  read  Injin  sign,  an'  he  could  tell  what  tribe 
they  belonged  to.  They  skelped  him,  too,  for  shoot- 
in'  some  on  'em ;  but  old  man  Sansom  said  he  reck- 
oned that  feller  was  a  good  deal  more'n  even  with 
'em  on  skelps." 

"  Thar's  mother ! "  shouted  Matilda,  as  they 
drew  near  the  house.  "  She's  been  worryin'  'bout 
us,  I  know  she  has.  She  always  does,  soon's  we're 
out  of  her  sight.    But  she  needn't  do  it,  not  one  bit." 

Tilly  was  right,  for  Mrs.  Lincoln  had  not  yet 

become  quite  accustomed  to  the  fact  that  she  was  in 

a  country  where  there  were  almost  no  roads. 

"  Oh,  dear  me ! "  she  had  said  to  herself,  "  I 

141 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

s'lDOse  they'll  come,  safe  enough.  Wish  thar  was  a 
good  road  all  the  way — both  ways,  goin'  an'  comin'. 
Thar'U  he  plenty  o'  roads  by  an'  by.  All  we  have 
to  do  is  to  wait." 

She  said  about  the  same  thing,  with  even  more 
energy,  after  they  were  all  in  plain  sight  from 
where  she  stood  in  the  doorway,  and  then  it  seemed 
as  if  she  were  actually  counting  them,  more  than 
once,  to  make  sure  that  none  of  them  were  missing. 

She  was  made  easy  on  that  point  soon  enough, 
for  each  of  the  returned  battalion  was  eager  for  his 
or  her  opportunity  to  tell  whatever  there  was  to 
tell  about  the  school,  and  even  Mr.  Lincoln  himself 
took  an  unexpectedly  active  interest  in  the  several 
noisily  made  reports. 


142 


CHAPTER    IX 

THE  SUMMER  WOODS 

'NTERRUPTIONS  in  tlie  course  of  edu- 
cation would  come.  Attendance  at  school 
in  winter  could  not  be  entirely  regular. 
Nobody  in  that  settlement,  including  the  schoolmas- 
ter himself,  expected  that  it  would  be.  Neither  the 
state  of  the  weather  nor  the  many  family  affairs 
were  to  be  depended  upon.  Even  when  a  splendidly 
thick  and  hard  crust  formed  on  the  snow,  after  a 
heavy  fall,  a  first-rate  thaw,  and  a  tip-top  frost,  it 
proved  untrustworthy  at  the  end  of  a  week  of  good 
walking.  Another  thaw  came,  as  is  often  the  case  in 
human  affairs.  If  that  crust  was  both  good  and  bad 
for  the  school,  however,  it  was  only  bad  luck  for  the 
deer,  and  enough  of  them  were  brought  in  by  the 
hunters  to  last  during  many  days.  With  the  opera- 
tions of  the  sportsmen  Abe  and  his  fellow  students 
had  little  or  nothing  to  do.    On  the  other  hand  there 

143 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

was  much  corn  to  be  shelled  at  the  Lincoln  place, 
the  mortar  and  pestle  were  still  there,  and  the  pigs 
provided  employment  even  after  they  were  securely 
penned  in. 

Meantime  the  back  door  was  cut  through,  the 
lean-to  was  up,  the  windows  were  better  fitted,  the 
new  front  door  was  made  and  hung,  and  the  pool 
was  duly  fenced  in.  Mr.  Lincoln  and  his  wife  made 
journeys  to  the  trading-places  on  the  Ohio  River, 
and  the  claybank  horse  was  made  to  earn  his  corn 
and  stable-room.  One  of  the  brightest  features  of 
the  situation  was  the  continual  coming  of  visitors 
to  see  Mrs.  Lincoln,  and  the  fact  that  every  one  of 
those  visits  had  to  be  returned  in  due  season.  Abe 
managed  to  get  over  to  old  man  Sansom's  one  after- 
noon, and  had  a  grand  time  in  spite  of  the  fact  that 
the  old  historian  was  out  hunting;  but  that  was 
nothing  to  the  evenings  that  he  spent  at  his  own  fire- 
side, when  Sansom  came  over  to  chat  with  his  friend 
Tom  Lincoln.  He  might  stay  pretty  late,  if  every- 
thing was  all  right.  His  homeward  way  was  now 
so  well  marked  that  he  could  not  lose  his  way,  ex- 
cept in  an  uncommonly  dark  night.    Such  nights,  of 

144 


THE    SUMMER    WOODS 

course,  were  to  be  avoided,  and  the  rising  of  the 
moon  was  to  be  taken  into  account  as  well  as  the 
blazes  on  the  trees. 

All  things  went  on  well  at  the  school.  Deport- 
ment, spelling,  reading,  arithmetic  were  even  pain- 
fully attended  to.  Abe  himself  had  not  yet  advanced 
so  far  as  writing.  Not  only  was  Mr.  Dorsey  of  opin- 
ion that  it  was  not  well  for  a  boy  to  plunge  into  pen- 
manship at  so  early  an  age,  but  there  were  neither 
pens  nor  paper  in  the  Lincoln  house.  It  was  enough, 
and,  all  things  considered,  it  was  a  grand  achieve- 
ment that,  before  spring  came  and  plowing  time  to 
break  up  the  winter  school  altogether,  Abe  was  in- 
dustriously, if  somewhat  slowly,  picking  out,  a  word 
at  a  time,  the  several  stories  which  belonged  to 
those  tremendous  pictures  in  the  Bible.  Before 
long  he  knew  them  all  by  heart.  He  became  so  ac- 
customed to  the  story  of  David  and  Goliath,  how- 
ever, that  even  after  the  snow  was  gone  and  he 
could  find  stones  fit  to  throw,  he  entirely  forgot  his 
first  purpose  of  practising  with  a  sling  to  find  out 
how  the  big  Philistine  was  knocked  over. 

Plowing  time  meant  a  great  deal  that  year. 

145 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

Mrs.  Lincoln  was  determined  that  every  available 
acre  should  be  put  into  corn  except  the  small  patch 
which  she  reserv^ed  for  her  garden  seeds.  The  soil 
was  new  and  fertile.  There  had  little  been  taken 
from  it  to  wear  it  out.  No  harrowing  was  done,  for 
there  was  no  harrow  on  the  place,  but  after  the  land 
was  plowed  it  was  marked  off  into  squares,  and 
every  corner  of  those  squares  provided  work  for 
some  boy.  At  that  season  the  farm  required  much 
more  work  than  could  be  done  by  one  man,  and  it 
was  well  for  Mr.  Lincoln  that  he  had  so  many  young 
helpers.  Even  a  small  chap  like  Abe  could  drop 
seed-corn  on  the  spots  where  the  hills  were  to  be, 
and  he  and  the  other  boys  could  take  turns,  with  the 
one  hoe  in  the  family,  at  covering  the  seed,  and 
afterward  in  keeping  down  the  intrusive  weeds 
which  persisted  in  coming. 

All  game  was  out  of  season,  and  there  was  no 
good  fishing  to  be  had  in  that  vicinity,  but  the  woods 
themselves  were  in  all  their  beauty.  It  was  worth 
any  boy's  while,  whenever  he  could  escape  from  his 
hoe  and  his  weeds  and  his  pigs,  merely  to  wander 
around  in  the  grand  old  forest,  while  the  leafy  can- 

146 


THE    SUMMER    WOODS 

opies  grew  thicker  overhead  and  the  mosses  and 
grasses  grew  greener  under  foot.  It  was  a  good 
thing  to  be  able  to  tell  one  tree  from  another  by  its 
bark  and  leaves,  and  to  know  every  animal  that 
dwelt  there,  including  the  snakes  and  porcupines. 
There  did  not  appear  to  be  many  birds.  Pigeons 
came,  and  crows.  There  were  woodpeckers  of  sev- 
eral varieties,  and  a  few  other  birds  which  were  not 
often  seen.  The  honk  of  wild  geese  had  been 
heard  away  up  in  the  sky,  and  ducks  also  had  passed 
on  northward,  but  none  of  them  had  alighted  in  the 
Lincoln  clearing.  Neither  had  an  eagle,  which  had 
been  seen  day  after  day  making  wide  circles  far  up 
above  the  tops  of  the  trees.  Abe  told  Sansom  about 
that  eagle. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  sighted  him,"  said  the  old  borderer, 
"  or  mebbe  it  was  another  jest  like  him.  It  means 
that  somebody  'round  here's  got  a  sick  boss  or  some 
other  critter.  That  eagle's  waitin'  for  the  carkiss. 
I  learned  'bout  that  when  I  was  'way  down  in  the 
Louisiana  country.  If  thar  wasn't  a  wing  to  be  seen 
anywhar  in  the  sky  an'  if  thar  hadn't  been  one  sight- 
ed for  a  month,  you  jest  let  a  mule  drop  dead,  an' 

147 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

'fore  you  could  git  away  a  hundred  yards  you  need 
but  just  look  up  an'  you'd  see  the  buzzards  comin'. 
You  know  they  couldn't  ha'  sighted  him,  an'  they 
couldn't  ha'  smelt  him,  but  some  on  'em  had  been 
a-watchin'  of  him,  an'  they  knew  jest  how  sick  he 
was.  Not  one  on  'em'll  ever  come  nigh  a  hull  drove 
o'  healthy  critters." 

Pieces  of  natural  history  and  border  wisdom 
like  that  were  all  the  while  arriving.  It  was  as  if 
the  young  people,  and  Abe  in  particular  among 
them,  were  now  attending  a  kind  of  summer  school 
in  which  a  great  many  branches  were  taught,  some- 
what to  the  neglect  of  deportment  and  manners. 

Mr.  Lincoln  was  never  out  of  employment ;  not 

even  after  all  his  corn  was  in,  and  his  fences  had 

been  mended  to  keep  out  the  marauding  deer.    He 

was  the  only  carpenter  to  be  had  for  many  a  long 

mile,  and  the  only  man  who  owned  a  whip-saw  for 

the  making  of  jolank.     He  did  not  exactly  earn 

money,  for  there  was  not  much  of  it  in  circulation, 

but  he  could  "  dicker "  for  a  great  many  things 

which  his  wife  wanted,  and  on  the  whole  they  were 

doing  very  well.    As  for  the  deer,  one  of  Abe's  dis- 

148 


y 


THE    SUMMER    WOODS 

coveries,  in  his  studies  of  animals,  was  how  high  a 
fence  a  beautiful  buck  or  doe  will  jump  if  there  is 
a  field  of  tender-leafed,  delicious  young  corn  be- 
yond it. 

"What  I  wonder  is,"  he  said,  "how  do  they 
know  it's  corn  ?  They  ain't  used  to  havin'  any  in  the 
woods.  But  it  a'most  looks  as  if  some  on  'em  knew 
how  to  climb.  I  don't  believe  any  deer  really 
jumped  that  fence." 

Hot  days  came,  when  the  air  was  like  everybody 
else,  and  did  not  care  to  stir  about  or  do  any  work. 
Storms  of  rain  came,  when  the  hurricanes  roared 
among  the  trees,  and  the  thunder  and  lightning 
broke  in  awfiilly  upon  the  dull  monotony  of  the  for- 
est life  which  the  settlers  were  leading.  It  was  at 
times  a  genuine  relief  to  stand  in  the  cabin  doorway 
and  wonder  whether  or  not  there  had  any  trees 
been  blown  down. 

"  I  jest  do  hope  thar's  been  some  knocked  over," 
remarked  Abe  on  one  of  these  occasions.  He  was 
not  in  the  house,  but  looking  out  from  the  pole- 
shelter,  and  he  added,  "  It'd  save  Pop  heaps  o'  work, 

an'  he  says  a  harricane  mostly  picks  out  the  trunks 

149 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

that  are  beginnin'  to  dry.  What  did  old  man  San- 
som  mean  when  he  said  it  was  jest  so  with  menf 
The  rotten  ones  tumbled." 

"  That's  so,"  replied  John  Johnston.  "  I  found 
one  yesterday  that'd  been  cut  down  by  lightnin',  an' 
it  was  so  holler  that  I  crawled  into  it  like  I  was  a 
b'ar.  It  would  hide  a  feller,  but  I  wouldn't  keer  to 
sleep  in  that  kind  o'  place  all  winter." 

It  was  a  good  growing  year,  as  all  the  settlers 
and  their  crops  were  ready  to  testify,  and  every 
now  and  then  good  Mrs.  Lincoln  would  look  at  Abe 
from  head  to  foot  and  remark ; 

"  I  do  declar',  how  that  boy  is  growin' !  He's  as 
tall  as  most  boys  o'  twelve,  if  he  isn't  more;  only 
he's  so  awful  thin  an'  lanky.  One'd  think  he  didn't 
git  enough  to  eat — an'  goodness  knows  what  his  ap- 
petite is ! " 

All  other  occupations  were  slackened  up  for  him 

and  his  companions  at  the  recurring  berry  times, 

and  then  there  was  fun.    The  fallen  trees  of  other 

years,  wherever  they  were  crumbling,  appeared  to 

have  tumbled  for  the  distinct  purpose  of  having 

wild  raspberry  vines   spring  up  and  climb  over 

150 


THE    SUMiMER    WOODS 

them.  Besides  these  were  the  strawberries  that 
came  first,  then  the  blackberries  and  afterward  the 
whortleberries,  wintergreen  berries,  elderberries, 
and  some  others  which  were  to  be  let  alone  because 
of  their  bad  reputation  as  being  possibly  poisonous. 
It  was  when  he  was  coming  home  from  berrying 
one  day  that  Abe  met  old  man  Sansom  near  a  fence 
corner,  and  the  bearded  veteran  was  looking  at 
something  that  he  held  in  his  hand. 

"  Abe,"  he  said,  "  do  you  know  what  that  is?  " 
"  Red  clover,"  said  Abe.    "  Reckon  everybody 
knows  clover." 

"Do  they?"  said  Sansom.  "Wal,  mebbe  they 
do,  but  the  In j ins  themselves  didn't  use  to  know  it. 
Thar  wasn't  a  mite  of  it  in  this  country  till  the  set- 
tlers kem  in.  Then,  pretty  soon,  the  Injins  caught 
sight  on  it.  It  had  been  fetched  in  on  some  man's 
waggin  that  had  had  hay  on  it — hayseed,  ye  know. 
An'  all  the  redskins  hated  it  like  pisen,  for  they 
called  it  '  The  White  Man's  Foot.'  They  said  it 
meant  that  they  was  to  be  crowded  out  pretty  soon. 
They  were  right  about  it,  too,  for  thar  was  never 

an  acre  o'  land  give  back  to  'em  after  the  red  clover 
11  151 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

got  a  good  start  onto  it.  For  along  with  the  clover 
kem  a  lot  o'  men  with  rifles,  an'  I'm  only  afeard  that 
the  deer  an'  turkeys'll  go  after  a  bit,  jest  as  the  In- 
jins  did.  VThat  I  s'pose  we'll  have  to  do  'fore  long 
is  to  raise  our  own  tnrkeys;  but  it's  on  my  mind 
that  we  wouldn't  do  well  with  deer  nor  painters." 

The  summer  passed,  as  all  summers  will,  one 
after  another,  and  corn-han^est  came,  bringing  with 
it  a  severe  affliction  to  Abe  and  the  bovs.  He  was 
as  tall  as  either  of  them,  and  to  him,  somehow,  came 
the  first  declaration  that  he  was  tall  enough  to  puU 
com,  even  if  he  had  to  reach  up  for  it  or  to  bend 
down  some  of  the  mightier  stalks.  Any  cutting 
which  was  to  be  done  by  a  strong  arm  and  a  hea\^ 
cutlass-like  corn-knife,  required  a  grown  man,  but 
mere  shucking  might  be  performed  by  smaller 
workmen.  It  was  just  so  with  the  business  of  toss- 
ing the  ears  from  the  field  heaps  into  the  wagon, 
which  was  borrowed  from  old  man  Sansom,  and 
again  from  that  wagon  into  the  rail  corn-cribs. 
Considering  the  increased  size  of  the  family,  it  was 
well  that  the  crop  was  liberal.  This  time  the  white, 
flint  part  of  it  was  carefully  pitched  into  a  separate 

152 


THE    SUMMER    WOODS 

crib  of  its  own.  It  might  have  been  said,  however, 
that  whenever  the  boys  looked  at  that  crib  it  re- 
minded them  not  only  of  hominy,  cakes,  and  pone, 
but  also  of  the  weary  hours  of  shelling  which  were 
surely  before  them  in  the  future. 

The  hunting  season  came  with  the  ripening  corn, 
but  it  did  not  come  for  Abe.  Instead  of  any  splen- 
did strolls  through  the  autumn  woods  after  deer, 
catamounts,  or  bears,  there  was  to  be  more  scholar- 
ship, for  the  dreaded  announcement  was  made  that 
•Mr.  Dorsey  had  not  run  away  and  was  to  reopen  his 
academy  over  on  Little  Pigeon  Creek.  Mrs.  Lin- 
coln insisted  that  all  the  children  should  begin  with 
the  opening  of  the  school,  except  the  half-time  days, 
which  were  allowed  them  for  the  pleasure  of  husk- 
ing corn  now  and  then,  and  they  all  went.  On  the 
whole,  they  took  it  well  and  patiently,  and  they  did 
so  partly  because  they  knew  that  all  the  other  schol- 
are  would  have  reports  to  make  as  to  what  had  hap- 
pened to  them  during  so  long  a  vacation.  As  to 
that,  it  was  about  as  they  expected  during  the  out- 
of-door  hours  of  their  first  week  at  the  school- 
house  ;  but  Dennis  Hanks  got  into  a  fight  with  one 

153 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

boy,  who  crowed  over  him  too  much  because  his  own 
father  had  killed  a  bear,  and  neither  Mr.  Lincoln 
nor  any  other  settler  had  as  yet  accomplished  so 
much  this  season. 

The  Lincoln  cabin  was  now  in  pretty  good  con- 
dition, differing  greatly  within  and  without  from 
the  miserable  coop  in  which  Dennis  and  Nancy  and 
Abe  had  waited  for  the  coming  of  their  new  mother. 
All  the  improvements  were  due  to  her,  and  so  was 
the  praise  that  she  had  not  shown  any  kind  of  favor- 
itism to  her  own  children,  whom  she  had  brought 
there  with  her,  over  the  forlorn  young  savages  she 
came  to  take  care  of.  These  were  now  appearing 
about  as  well  as  any  other  young  frontiersmen,  boys 
or  girls,  and  they  had  made  a  little  society  of  their 
own  in  which,  crowded  as  they  were,  there  was  no 
danger  that  any  member  of  it  would  feel  at  all  lone- 
ly. In  fact,  even  Mr.  Tom  Lincoln  sometimes  com- 
plained that  his  house  was  almost  too  lively  for  com- 
fort ;  but  when  old  man  Sansom  came  over  to  spend 
an  evening  on  history,  he  roundly  asserted  that  there 
was  not  a  finer,  ruggeder  lot  of  youngsters  in  all 

those  woods — especially  Abe. 

154 


THE    SUMMER    WOODS 

It  was  to  be  understood,  as  a  strong  mark  of  his 
approval  of  the  manner  in  which  they  had  listened 
to  him,  that  one  Saturday  afternoon  he  brought 
with  him  a  present  of  a  fine  mastiff  pup  of  his  own 
raising,  which  had  already  developed  a  remarkable 
growl  of  its  own. 

"  I  wouldn't  give  a  cent,"  he  said,  "  for  a  dog 
that  can't  growl.  You  see,  it  shows  that  thar  ain't 
no  spunk  into  him.  "VAHiat  I  keer  for  is  a  dog  that 
can  growl  all  over  an'  make  the  ha'r  rise  on  the  top 
of  his  back.  I  had  a  dog  once  that  could  pull  down 
a  wild  steer,  an'  he  liked  the  fun  o'  doin'  it,  too ;  but 
one  o'  the  critters  homed  him  right  through  the 
head  an'  that  was  the  last  o'  him — ^killed  him  dead 
as  a  stone.  But  that  pup'll  do  well  if  you  fetch  him 
up  right,  for  a  pup  is  jest  like  a  boy,  an'  you  can't 
begin  too  early  with  him.  I  did,  for  I  cut  off  all  but 
'bout  two  inches  of  his  tail,  first  thing." 

The  pup  was  made  to  feel  at  home  immediately, 
and  it  shortly  began  to  appear  as  if  there  were 
seven  children  in  the  house  instead  of  six.  Like  his 
companions,  the  seventh  and  youngest  showed  signs 
of  increasing  intelligence,  but  his  interest  in  Dor- 

155 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

sey's  school  could  be  inferred  only  from  the  fact 
that  he  was  always  out  beyond  the  wood-pile  waiting 
at  the  hour  for  the  return  of  the  daily  procession, 
weather  or  no  weather.  All  through  that  winter  he 
and  the  rest  grew  rapidly  in  knowledge  and  in  size, 
but  neither  the  mastiff  pup  nor  any  of  the  other 
young  people  shot  upward  so  remarkably  as  did 
Abe  himself. 

"  I  do  declar',"  exclaimed  his  mother,  after  a 
careful  inspection  of  him,  "  he's  gained  a  good  two 
inches !  He  grows  right  along  out  o'  anything  I  can 
put  onto  him.  But  he's  beginnin'  to  read  first-rate, 
an'  old  Dorsey  says  he's  at  the  head  of  the  boys' 
class  in  spellin',  but  thar's  one  o'  the  older  gals  that 
can  spell  him  down.  Mebbe  she  can,  mebbe  she  can't. 
You  needn't  take  all  that  Hazel  Dorsey  says  for 
gospil  truth." 

There  had  been  pork  to  sell  at  killing  time,  and 

even  much  corn  to  spare.    Sansom's  wagon  had  to 

be  borrowed  more  than  once.    Therefore  there  was 

now  on  hand  a  larger  amount  than  formerly  of  the 

supplies  which  might  be  called  luxuries,  like  sugar 

and  coffee  and  tea.    Besides  these,  Mrs.  Lincoln  had 

156 


'/■IcxA-^M*^''^^ — - 


'Od  jb  ^T^-i-^o  Ay*^i  4y4'uu^^ 


LINES  WRITTEN    BY   LINCOLN  ON   THE   LEAF  OF   HIS 
SCHOOL  BOOK   IN  HIS   FOURTEENTH   YEAR. 

Preserved  by  his  Stepmother. 

Original  in  possession  of  J.   W.   Weik 


THE    SUMMER    WOODS 

insisted  upon  obtaining  a  number  of  articles  of 
clothing  for  herself  and  the  girls,  not  to  speak  of  the 
increasing  demands  of  the  boys  for  more  extensive 
buckskins.  That  part  of  her  supiDlies,  however,  did 
not  come  from  the  stores  at  the  landings.  It  did 
not  cost  money,  but  dicker,  for  old  man  Sansom 
fairly  delighted  in  tanning  as  many  skins  as  he 
could  obtain,  and  Tom  Lincoln  and  others  were 
eager  to  oblige  him  with  all  the  proceeds  of  their 
hunting. 

"  Fact  is,"  remarked  Sansom,  "  thar  won't  never 
be  any  kind  o'  cloth  made  that's  quite  ekil,  all  things 
considered,  to  the  nat'ral  coat  of  a  wild  critter.  I 
knowed  a  man  once  that  never'd  put  on  in  winter 
anythin'  but  b'arskin ;  an'  he  moved  out  o'  Tennes- 
see an'  squatted  'way  down  in  Arkansaw  'cause  b'ar 
was  gittin'  scurse ;  an'  he  got  all  chawed  up  in  a  fight 
with  a  grizzly  one  day  an'  that  was  the  end  of  him !  " 

After  all  that  he  might  feel  disposed  to  say, 
there  was  one  serious  defect  in  the  kind  of  dry- 
goods  he  was  praising.  The  palefaces  had  never  ac- 
quired the  art  with  which  the  Indian  squaws  will 
tan  deerskin  so  that  it  will  not  shrink  on  wetting. 

157 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

All  garments  made  from  such  material  as  old  man 
Sansom  provided  might  as  well  be  made  several 
sizes  too  large,  in  the  first  place,  in  order  that 
after  the  weather  exposure  they  were  sure  to  receive 
they  might  narrow  down  to  something  like  a  fit.  It 
was  on  this  account  that  Mrs.  Lincoln  found  two 
difficulties  in  the  way  of  her  efforts  at  making  Abe 
look  decent :  one  was  the  growth  of  the  boy  himself ; 
the  other  was  that  his  successive  buckskins,  of  their 
own  accord,  pretty  soon  began  to  put  on  an  air  of 
being  on  a  hunt  after  some  smaller  boy,  for  whom 
they  had  been  getting  ready.  As  for  moccasins, 
there  was  a  deal  of  ready-made  economy  about 
them,  for  nobody  in  all  that  settlement  dreamed  of 
going  otherwise  than  barefooted,  except  in  winter 
weather  or  to  meeting. 

"  Fact  is,"  said  old  man  Sansom,  when  present- 
ing that  subject,  "  I've  worn  leather  shoes  a  good 
many  times — high-leg  boots,  too ;  but  I  never  quite 
got  used  to  'em,  except  one  long-top  pair  that  I  had 
in  the  War  of  1812.  I  found  'em  on  the  battle-field 
the  day  after  we  whipped  Gineral  Pack'num  an'  the 

redcoats.    I  reckoned  some  feller'd  pulled  'em  off 

158 


THE    SUMMER    WOODS 

so  he  could  run  better,  an'  they  fitted  me  within 
less'n  an  inch  all  'round  the  foot.  They  wore  me 
nine  years,  for  I  never  put  'em  on  if  I  could  help  it, 
an'  I  most  ginerally  could.  If  you  want  a  pair  o' 
boots  or  shoes  to  last,  you  oughtn't  to  walk  'round 
in  'em  onless  it's  needful.  Jest  ile  'em  well  an'  hang 
'em  up,  an'  they'll  keep." 

Abe  did  not  get  any  leather  shoes  to  try  experi- 
ments with,  but  he  made  up  his  mind  that  he  would 
surely  do  so  some  day.  It  already  was  an  evident 
promise  of  that  far-otf  future  that  he  would  then 
have  to  call  for  the  largest  sizes,  for  his  feet  were 
advancing  beyond  the  rest  of  his  growth. 

There  were  fine  snow-storms  that  winter,  and 
several  of  them  were  of  a  depth  of  snowfall  which 
almost  shut  up  the  Dorsey  academy.  It  took  Mr. 
Lincoln  a  whole  day,  with  a  wooden  shovel,  to  cut  a 
road  through  one  of  those  drifts  between  the  house 
and  the  pigs  and  corn-cribs.  During  all  that  time 
the  plaintive  cries  of  the  hungry  animals  could  be 
heard  at  the  house,  and  the  sympathy  expressed  for 
them  was  also  continuous. 

"  Hear  em !  "  said  Mrs.  Lincoln.    "  Jest  think  o' 

159 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

the  children  tryin'  to  git  to  school !  They  won't,  for 
days  an'  days." 

"  Jest  so,"  said  her  husband.  "  An'  the  wust  of 
it  is  that  we're  keepin'  them  two  ponies  for  Sansom, 
an'  they'll  die  o'  thirst  if  they  don't  git  a  drink. 
Glad  it  isn't  quite  so  bad  between  this  an'  the  pool, 
but  it's  a  good  thing  for  us  that  all  the  barr'ls  are 
full." 

"  Nonsense !  "  replied  his  wife ;  "  we  can  always 
melt  snow  enough  for  all  the  water  we  need,  so 
long's  the  wood-pile  holds  out  an'  thar  are  trees  nigh 
enough  for  choppin'.  Thar  are  wuss  things  than 
snow-water." 

After  all,  the  first  help  the  pigs  received  was 
from  Abe  and  Dennis  and  John,  for  the  boys  floun- 
dered over  the  big  drift  and  threw  out  corn  until  all 
the  squealing  ceased. 


160 


CHAPTER  X 

HORSE-DEALiING 

|0  winter  can  last  forever,  and  there  was 
an  end  of  that  one,  but  all  through  its 
days  of  snow  and  nights  of  frost  yet 
another  improvement  had  been  preparing.  It  did 
not  come  suddenly,  and  it  was  not  fully  completed 
until  it  was  nearly  time  for  the  spring  plowing  to  be- 
gin. Some  of  the  new  settlers  that  had  been  hoped 
for  arrived  first,  and  there  were  rumors  that  a  gath- 
ering of  houses  over  on  Little  Pigeon  Creek  was  to 
be  a  village  before  long,  and  that  it  would  have  a 
name  of  its  own. 

"  Yes,  'bout  that,"  said  Mr.  Tom  Lincoln.  "  I 
did  hear  that  if  old  man  Gentry  made  his  store  any- 
thin'  like  what  it  ort  to  be,  most  likely  the  town'd  be 
called  Gentry^'ille,  an'  one  name's  as  good  as  an- 
other." 

"  Tom,"  replied  his  wife,  "  never  mind  'bout  that 

161 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

jest  now.  What  I  want  to  know  is  what  old  man 
Sansom's  gwine  to  do  'bout  the  bosses.  Can't  you 
make  him  come  to  some  kind  o'  agreement?  " 

"  Sally,"  said  he,  '*  fact  is,  I  believe  Bob  San- 
som's nigh  right  'bout  his  father.  He  says  the  old 
man  jest  loves  to  raise  bosses,  an'  he's  allers  ready 
for  a  trade,  but  it  does  jest  about  kill  him  to  let  one 
boss  go  from  him  without  gittin'  another  boss  o' 
some  kind  back  in  the  swop.  I  haven't  anythin'  to 
swop  with,  an'  thar's  whar  the  shoe  pinches." 

The  subject  had  been  brought  up  frequently  ever 
since  the  first  borrowing  of  the  claybank.  Mrs.  Lin- 
coln had  calculated  that  he  and  some  of  Sansom's 
ponies  which  had  taken  their  turns  in  the  pole-shel- 
ter, whether  or  not  there  had  been  any  use  for  them, 
at  the  time  of  their  residence  (in  that  barn  by  way 
of  a  kindness  done  to  a  neighbor)  had  eaten  their 
heads  otf  several  times  over,  if  there  had  been  any 
fair  price  offering  for  unshelled  corn  on  the  Indiana 
market. 

"  You  see,  Tom,"  the  old  man  had  remarked,  as 

he  sat  by  the  Lincoln  fireplace  and  smoked,  "  thar's 

a  great  deal  to  be  said  'bout  bosses.    It  isn't  easy, 

162 


HORSE-DEALING 

jest  offhand,  to  say  what  they're  wuth.  I  had  a 
hoss  once  that  I  traded  six  times,  an'  I  allers  made 
somethin'  on  him.  He  was  dead  sure  to  come  back. 
An'  then  I'd  trade  another  hoss,  to  settle  the  matter 
an'  make  a  new  deal.  Any  man  was  glad  to  let  me 
have  that  hoss  an'  git  another  in  place  of  him.  He 
was  a  good  one,  too.  Thar  wasn't  a  fault  in  him 
that'd  show  under  a  week  or  ten  days,  an'  then  he'd 
let  out  what  was  in  him,  an'  he'd  keep  it  up  till  they 
fetched  him  home  an'  said  the  devil  was  in  him." 

Nevertheless,  when  the  grass  was  greening  and 
the  buds  were  swelling  on  the  trees,  old  man  San- 
som  one  morning  met  Abe  leading  the  claybank 
along  the  road,  and  looking  somewhat  dejected. 

"  Abe,"  said  he,  "  wliar  are  ye  gwine  with  that 
hoss?" 

"  Over  to  your  house,"  replied  Abe  mournfully. 
"  Thar  was  a  man  kem  from  one  o'  the  new  clear- 
in's,  an'  he  was  talkin'  with  mother.  He  had  the 
likeliest  kind  of  a  critter  that  he  didn't  know  what  to 
do  with." 

"  Abe,"  exclaimed  the  old  man,  "  you  jest  face 
about  an'  trot  home.    I'll  go  an'  see  your  mother. 

163 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

^ATiy,  rd  done  sold  that  nag  to  Tom.  All  tliar  was 
left  to  'range  was  somethin'  'bout  the  gray  pony  an' 
some  carpenter  work  an'  jest  odds  an'  ends  o' 
things.  It's  his  hoss  now,  an'  he  needn't  hunt 
for  another  trade  this  season.  Some  o'  the  critters 
these  new  settlers  are  fetchin'  in  ain't  wuth  much, 
nohow." 

Not  a  great  many  minutes  later  he  and  Abe  were 
at  the  Lincoln  front  door,  face  to  face  with  the  lady 
manager,  who  had  determined  to  try  her  hand  at  a 
horse-trade  and  see  if  she  could  not  bring  the  nego- 
tiations to  a  finish. 

"  AYhat  I  was  thinkin'  of,"  she  said  to  Sansom, 
"  was  that  you  seemed  to  set  store  by  that  one,  an' 
that  I'd  jest  as  lieve  have  one  that  was  four  or  five 
years  younger  an'  that  was  raised  in  Kentucky." 

"A\liy,  bless  your  soul,"  he  replied  politely, 
"  that's  jest  whar  he  was  raised !  Best  stock  in  the 
kentry.  An'  he's  younger  than  he  looks,  I've 
known  bosses  o'  that  breed  to  keep  on  as  good  as 
ever  till  thev  was  over  thirtv.  An'  I  saw  one  once 
at  forty,  an'  he  could  pull  down  a  fence  or  open  a 
bam  door  then.    Thar's  Tom  comin'  now,  an'  we  can 

164 


HORSE-DEALING 

fix  the  matter  right  lip.  He  can  go  on  with  his  plow- 
in',  but  he'd  best  go  over  to  Gentry\ille  an'  git  a  job 
o'  carpenter  work  on  Gentry's  new  store.  It'll  help 
him  pay  for  the  pony,  an'  that's  what  fetched  me 
over  here  to-day,  for  I  want  to  trade  for  some  o' 
Gentry's  tools  an'  things." 

That  was  it.  In  an  unexpected  way  the  main  ob- 
stacle had  been  removed,  for  it  leaked  out  in  that 
very  hour  that  Sansom  had  already  been  dickering 
with  Gently  for  a  second  horse  trade,  into  which 
this  might  be  made  to  work  profitably.  Here,  there- 
fore, was  not  to  be  merely  a  miserable  out-and-out 
sale  of  a  horse,  but  a  series  of  long-winded  bargains 
such  as  his  soul  delighted  in.  Abe  led  away  the 
claybank  to  the  pole-shelter  with  a  yet  higher  re- 
spect for  his  mother  and  a  determination  that  he 
would  shortly  go  and  see  the  new  town,  if  it  was 
really  there. 

The  next  morning  he  was  missed,  and  not  a  soul 
could  give  any  idea  what  had  become  of  him,  al- 
though search  was  made,  with  ample  shouting  of  his 
name  all  around  the  clearing.  He  was  not  to  be 
found,  and  his  absence  without  leave  might  have 

165 


THE    BOY    LINXOLX 

made  trouble  for  him  if  it  had  not  been  for  some 
collateral  considerations.  The  first  of  these  was 
that  the  plowed  ground  was  not  yet  quite  ready  for 
corn-planting ;  the  next  was,  that  he  had  gone  on  an 
exploring  expedition.  Yet  another  might  have  been 
good  or  bad  for  him.  according  to  circumstances. 
He  was  gone  all  day.  and  even  his  father  became 
anxious  about  him,  and  went  and  cut  a  long,  limber 
switch  by  way  of  expressing  his  feelings.  At  last 
it  was  very  near  sunset,  when  John  Johnston  and 
Dennis  Hanks  met  him  coming  in  on  the  farther  side 
of  the  open. 

"  Hallo  I  "  they  shouted ;  and  Dennis  added, 
"  "Whar've  you  been?  "  and  John  exclaimed,  "  Oh, 
but  won't  you  ketch  it  I    You'll  be  jest  hided." 

"  Been  to  Gentrwille ! "  shouted  back  Abe. 
"  Saw  all  thar  was  to  see." 

'•'  TThy  didn't  you  tell  us  fellers,  an'  let  us  go 
'long  with  you  ? "  yelled  John :  and  Dennis  grum- 
bled :    '•  That  was  jest  torn  down  mean !  " 

"  TYal,"   said  Abe,   *''  the  notion  took  me  last 

night,   an'  it  ketched  me  ag'in  at  the  pool  this 

momin',  an'  I  jest  snaked  it  an'  went." 

166 


HORSE-DEALIXG 

"  What  did  you  see,  anyhow  ? "  asked  John. 
"  Wish  I  could  ha'  gone." 

"  Didn't  see  nothin'  much,"  responded  Abe,  and 
he  appeared  to  be  inclined  to  silence  as  he  hurried 
on  toward  the  house. 

In  a  few  minutes  more  he  was  replying  to  a  sim- 
ilar question  from  Mrs.  Lincoln  while  she  was  hug- 
ging him,  and  while  his  father  was  slowly  drawing 
the  switch  through  the  fingers  of  his  left  hand. 

"  Oh,  Abe!  "  she  had  said,  "  Gentryville!  An' 
how  you  have  scared  us !  But  what  did  you  see  ? 
Did  you  git  anythin'  new  ?    How  does  it  look  ?  " 

The  switch  was  drawing  a  little  more  slowly,  as 
Abe  could  see  out  of  a  comer  of  one  eye,  and  he 
quickly  rephed: 

"  Wal,  it's  jest  about  nothin',  'cept  some  houses 

an'  a  lot  o'  folks.    I  asked  one  feller  whar  the  town 

was,  an'  he  said  it  was  comin',  but  it  hadn't  got  in 

yet.    He  said  old  Sol  Gentiy  forgot  it  this  trip,  an' 

left  it  behind  him  over  on  the  Wabash.     Then  he 

said  it  was  to  be  a  new  kind  o'  town,  an'  thar  wasn't 

gwine  to  be  anv  small  bovs  'lowed  into  it.    He  said 

thar  was  to  be  a  hog-reeve  'pinted  to  kill  'em  all  off." 
12  167 


THE    BOY    LI^XOLN 

"  What  else  did  he  tell  ye  f  "  demanded  Mr.  Lin- 
coln, with  the  switch  lowered  as  if  it  might  be  wait- 
ing for  the  answer  to  that  question. 

Mrs.  Lincoln  dropped  a  skillet  that  she  had 
picked  up,  and  John  and  Dennis  grinned  at  the 
switch  and  at  each  other,  but  Abe  went  on : 

"  I  was  jest  about  sayin'  somethin'  back  at  him 
when  a  big  chap  kem  along  with  a  club  in  one  hand 
an'  a  rifle  in  the  other,  an'  hooted  right  into  his 
ear.  Then  he  collared  him  an'  jerked  him  off 
his  feet." 

"  Was  thar  a  fight  ?  "  shouted  Mr.  Lincoln,  let- 
ting the  switch  find  a  resting-jDlace  on  the  floor, 
close  beside  the  skillet.    "  Did  he  kill  him?  " 

"  No,  Pop,  he  didn't  kill  him,"  said  Abe,  "  but  he 
had  to  knock  him  endways  'fore  he'd  give  in.  He 
told  the  folks  that  this  feller  was  wanted  down  the 
river  for  hoss-stealin',  an'  thar  was  a  big  gang  of 
them,  an'  that  folks  'round  hereaway'd  better  be  all 
on  the  lookout  for  thar  critters,  'specially  o'  dark 
nights." 

"  Tom,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Lincoln,  "  we  must  look 

sharp  for  ours,  now  we've  got  'em.    Oh,  I'm  so  glad 

168 


HORSE-DEALING 

Sansom  give  us  that  pup !  We  can  tie  him  in  the 
stable.  He  can  bark  like  anythin',  an'  I'll  be  sure 
to  hear." 

"  Wal,  if  I  ain't  torn  down  glad  he  went !  "  said 
Mr.  Lincoln  emphatically.  "  Thieves  are  bound  to 
come  whar  thar's  critters.  No,  Abe,  you  eat  your 
supper,  but  do  you  jest  go  right  on  an'  tell  all  you 
saw  at  Gentryville.  I  reckon  thar's  enough  o'  the 
town  got  in,  an'  the  rest  of  it's  comin'." 

Abe  was  a  good  deal  more  than  ready  to  obey. 
As  he  did  so,  it  quickly  became  apparent  that  the 
arrest  of  the  marauder  had  set  all  the  unemployed 
men  and  women  in  the  village  to  spinning  yarns  on 
the  spot.  In  fact,  some  who  had  previously  been  at 
work  lost  all  interest  in  their  other  occupations  and 
joined  the  mob  of  historians  with  thrilling  contri- 
butions of  their  own.  These  were  many  and  of  all 
sorts,  but  not  one  tale  of  a  lost  quadruped  had  been 
told  in  Abe's  hearing  without  his  becoming  an  en- 
tirely competent  reporter  thereof.  It  was  as  if 
something  in  his  head  were  playing  stenographer 
and  taking  it  all  down  in  shorthand.  Before  the 
evening's  entertainment  was  over  he  had  added  to 

169 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

the  Gentryville  list  a  number  of  things  which  he  had 
heard  at  Sansom's.  All  the  reports  and  records  be- 
ing put  together,  it  was  evident  that  organized 
gangs,  as  well  as  solitaiy  horse-thieves,  had  for  a 
long  time  been  recognized  features  of  frontier  life. 
It  was  as  if  the  taking  of  four-footed  plunder  were 
as  a  local  custom  which  had  been  handed  down  from 
the  heroes  of  the  vanished  Indian  tribes,  all  of 
whom  were  known  to  glory  in  that  kind  of  skill, 
with  its  daring  adventures  and  hardly  won  suc- 
cesses. Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lincoln  were  entirely  ab- 
sorbed, and  neither  Dennis  nor  John  could  have 
given  the  smallest  idea  of  the  manner  in  which  they 
envied  Abe  that  trip  of  his  to  Gentryville. 

It  was  almost  a  necessaiy  consequence  of  the  ar- 
rest of  a  horse-thief  in  presence  of  Abe  that  he  and 
his  father,  one  on  the  claybank  and  the  other  on  the 
pony,  rode  over  to  old  man  Sansom's  early  next 
morning.  The  news  was  important;  its  discussion 
was  necessary.  The  reception  of  it  by  the  old  horse- 
raiser  and  his  family  was  every  bit  as  enthusiastic 
as  they  could  have  expected  reasonably,  for  all  the 
men  on  the  place  at  once  went  and  took  down  their 

170 


HORSE-DEALING 

rifles,  to  make  sure  the  weapons  were  in  good  order 
for  use. 

Abe  himself  went  out  for  an  inspection  of  the 
stock  as  soon  as  he  could  after  dismounting  from  his 
pony.  It  occurred  to  him  that  any  gang  of  proposed 
horse-thieves  would  be  likely  to  come  after  that  en- 
ticing collection.  "  They'd  jest  gobble  'em,  too,"  he 
said  to  himself,  "  if  it  wasn't  for  thar  bein'  so  many 
dogs  an'  guns  around.  All  those  pups,  big  an'  lit- 
tle'd  wake  up  every  soul  on  the  place  if  they'd  let  all 
their  mouths  off  together.  Some  on  'em  can  jest 
howl !    I've  heard  'em.    Good  biters,  too." 

He  may  have  missed  some  of  old  man  Sansom's 
horse  stories  by  lingering  as  long  as  he  did  among 
the  stables,  but  he  did  not  fail  of  obtaining  one  piece 
of  information  which  was  of  interest  to  him.  He 
was  thinking  of  it  seriously,  but  it  was  not  until 
he  and  his  father  had  remounted  and  were  on  their 
way  home  that  Mr.  Lincoln  turned  suddenly  to  say : 

"  Abe,  Sansom  tells  me  that  old  man  Locker  has 
got  his  hand-mill  into  shape  ag'in  at  his  place,  over 
beyond  the  south  timber.  It's  a  good,  straight  road, 
an'  you  can  find  it  easy.     Thar's  plenty  o'  com, 

171 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

ready  shelled,  an'  you  boys  can  shell  a  heap  more. 
You  an'  Dennis  can  take  both  o'  the  bosses  to-mor- 
rer,  while  I'm  carpentering  at  Gentry's,  an'  you  can 
tote  a  big  grist  to  be  ground.  We're  nigh  out  o' 
meal." 

"  That's  jest  what  I'd  like  to  do !"  exclaimed 
Abe.  "  I  saw  a  grist-mill  once  down  in  Kentucky, 
but  I  didn't  go  inside,  an'  I  don't  know  what  it's 
like.  That  one  was  run  by  a  mill-pond  an'  a  big 
wheel." 

"  This  one  isn't,"  said  his  father.  "  You'll  see, 
when  you  git  thar." 

That  did  not  prevent  him  from  asking  questions 
of  his  mother  when  he  got  home.  Nobody,  any- 
where, had  as  yet  dreamed  of  a  steam-power  mill, 
but  she  could  tell  him  a  number  of  interesting  things 
about  water-power  and  horse-power.  The  latter 
was  commonly  the  beginning  of  grindings  all  over 
the  world,  so  that  in  after  days  the  efficiency  of  mill- 
ing inventions,  of  whatever  kind,  came  to  be  calcu- 
lated according  to  the  estimated  or  supposed  num- 
ber of  the  animals  they  took  the  work  away  from. 

It  has  never  yet  been  discovered  what  precise  horse, 

172 


HORSE-DEALING 

large  or  small,  weak  or  strong,  was  originally  se- 
lected to  measure  power  by. 

Home  was  reached  and  all  was  duly  arranged. 
It  was  necessary  for  the  boys  to  be  off  at  an  early 
hour  next  morning,  in  order  that  the  com  might 
reach  the  mill  as  soon  as  possible  after  the  power 
to  be  employed  might  be  supposed  to  have  finished 
his  breakfast. 

"  I  do  hope,"  said  Mrs.  Lincoln,  "  that  not  too 
many  others'll  be  in  the  mill  ahead  o'  ye.  If  you 
find  thar  are  too  many  grists  waitin',  you'd  better 
leave  your'n  an'  come  home  an'  make  another  trip 
for  it." 

The  claybank  and  the  pony  were  bridled  and  led 
to  the  door.  Then  Abe  on  the  broad  deck  and  Den- 
nis on  the  smaller  craft  were  put  on  board  first. 
The  rest  of  the  cargo,  in  large  sacks,  was  hoisted 
before  and  behind  them,  wedging  them  in  so  that  no 
.  amount  of  shying  or  rearing  by  the  beasts  could  un- 
seat them.  A  wagon  would  have  been  somewhat 
better,  but  as  yet  the  Lincoln  outfit  did  not  include 
any  wheels. 

It  was  only  six  or  seven  miles  to  the  Locker 

173 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

place,  even  by  tlie  winding  way  which  led  to  it 
through  the  woods.  The  miles  were  passed,  and 
just  as  the  two  mill-boys  rode  out  from  under  the 
forest  shadows  the  claybank  suddenly  stood  still. 
It  was  as  if  he  saw  something  which  interested  or 
even  startled  him.  The  gray  pony  followed  his  ex- 
ample, but  neither  of  them  said  anything.  The  boys 
also  were  entirely  silent  observ^ers  for  a  few  mo- 
ments, and  then  Abe  burst  out  with : 

"  Denny,  if  thar  isn't  the  mill !  Jest  look  at  him 
a-grindin'." 

There  it  was,  indeed — a  large,  open  shed,  a  mere 
roof,  under  the  center  of  which  the  millstones  had 
been  set  up.  There  was  more  machinery  outside  of 
the  stones  and  their  casing,  but  the  most  prominent 
feature  of  the  whole  contrivance  was  a  long,  out- 
reaching  beam  on  one  side,  at  the  outer  end  of  which 
a  short,  fat  man  was  walking  and  pushing,  and  he 
was  the  power  which  was  compelling  the  stones  to 
whirl  around  as  they  were  now  doing. 

"  Some  other  feller's  in  ahead  of  us,"  said  Den- 
nis.   "  It's  goin'." 

"  That  isn't  jest  what  I  was  thinkin'of,"  replied 

174 


y 


HORSE-DEALING 

Abe.  *'  Don't  you  remember  what  mother  was  read- 
in'  to  us  about  Samson?  The  Philistines  pulled  his 
eyes  out,  an'  stuck  him  in  a  hand-mill  an'  made  him 
grind  com  for  'em.  Thar's  a  big  picter  of  it  in  her 
Bible,  an'  I  went  for  a  look  at  it  yesterday.  I  read 
the  story  all  the  way  through.  That  thar  looks  a 
good  deal  like  the  picter  does.  But  I  kind  o'  reckon 
Samson  was  wuth  a  heap  more  in  any  mill  than  old 
man  Locker  is." 

"  Wal,"  said  Dennis,  "  I  heard  it,  an'  that  wasn't 
the  hull  on  it.  Samson  got  even  with  'em.  He 
pulled  thar  old  meetin'-house  right  down  onto  them 
while  thar  was  preachin'  goin'  on,  an'  it  was  full. 
Killed  loads  on  'em.  Served  'em  right,  too,  for 
blindin'  of  him  the  way  they  did." 

"  That  isn't  all,"  said  Abe.  "  He  was  a  heap 
more'n  even  with  'em  'fore  they  put  him  in  the  mill. 
He  mashed  'em  with  a  bone.  I  asked  old  man  San- 
som  how  it  was,  an'  he  said  he  saw  a  mule  skeleton 
once,  an'  a  jawbone  of  it  was  as  long's  your  arm; 
it'd  make  an  awful  club.    Let's  go  ahead." 

As  they  did  so  the  mill  stopped  running  and  the 

power  of  it  came  forward  to  meet  them.    He  was  a 

175 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

strong  old  fellow,  for  he  lowered  the  sacks  of  grain 
with  almost  as  little  effort  as  Tom  Lincoln  might 
have  used.  Then  he  relieved  Abe's  anxiety  about 
the  grist  he  was  grinding. 

"It's  all  right,  my  boy,"  he  said.  "When 
nothin'  else  is  in  I  grind  my  own  corn.  That's  how 
I  have  meal  on  hand  to  trade  with  to  fellers  that's 
in  a  hurry.    I  can  stop  it  off  now  an'  put  in  your'n." 

"  How  long'll  it  take!  "  asked  Abe.  "  Can  we 
have  it  to-day?" 

"  Course  you  can ! "  he  exclaimed  indignantly. 
"  Why,  bless  your  soul,  I  can  grind  fifteen  bushels 
a  day  in  that  mill  if  I'm  put  to  it !  Ornarily,  though, 
ten  bushel  is  all  I  call  for.  I  don't  keer  to  work 
myself  to  death  for  any  man.  You  boys  can  run 
'round  anywhar  you  please  till  dinner-time;  then 
you'll  hear  the  horn  at  the  house,  an'  come  in." 

Dennis  was  ready  to  inspect  everything  about 
the  place  without  delay,  but  Ahe  was  in  a  manner 
fascinated  by  that  mill.  He  stood  and  watched  all 
the  operations  of  the  miller.  He  saw  some  of  his 
own  corn  put  in,  saw  the  meal  from  it  coming  out 
below,  and  then  he  studied  the  ingenious  mechanism 

176 


HORSE-DEALING 

by  means  of  which  the  same  power  that  turned  the 
stones  also  rattled  the  bolting-cloth  which  was  sift- 
ing other  meal  in  a  carefully  weather-guarded  cor- 

A 

ner  of  the  shed. 

"  That's  a  big  thing,  isn't  it?  "  said  Mr.  Locker 
proudly.  "  It  saves  all  sorts  o'  trouble  for  the  wom- 
en-folks. They  used  to  have  to  sift  thar  own  meal 
out,  but  now  they  won't.   It's  a  great  improvement." 

He  leaned  against  his  beam,  and  it  walked  slowly 
away  with  him  while  he  talked  to  Abe  about  other 
mills,  better  and  worse,  and  asserted : 

"  'Fore  next  winter  I'm  goin'  to  have  this  mill 
walled  in  so  I  can  run  it  in  any  kind  o'  weather,  on- 
less  it's  too  tarnation  cold.  I  ain't  a-goin'  to  freeze 
myself  to  death  for  any  man." 

He  was  not  so  determined  a  story-teller  as  old 
man  Sansom,  but  he  did  pretty  well,  and  it  was  long 
before  Abe  went  to  join  Dennis.  They  looked 
around  at  cattle  and  hogs  and  horses,  but  it  was  not 
a  great  while  before  they  were  startled  by  a  burst 
of  sound  which  came  from  the  house. 

"  Horn !  "  shouted  Dennis.    "  Did  you  ever  hear 

anythin'  like  that!  " 

177 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

"  It  means  dinner,"  said  Abe.  "  But  what's  lie 
blowin'  like  that  for?" 

Old  man  Locker  himself  stood  in  the  doorway, 
and  he  was  sending  ont  blast  after  blast,  but  there 
did  not  appear  to  be  anybody  sent  for  or  arriving 
except  the  boys.  No,  he  did  not  expect  anybody 
else,  and  he  was  exerting  his  lungs  in  this  manner 
solely  for  the  pride  and  pleasure  that  he  took  in  that 
tremendous  curve  of  black  ox-horn. 

The  dinner  was  a  good  one,  and  while  it  was  pro- 
gressing Mr.  Locker  explained  to  his  young  custom- 
ers the  differences  between  fine  meal,  coarse  meal, 
samp  and  hominy  grits.  Nevertheless,  he  appeared 
to  eat  in  some  haste,  as  if  he  were  eager  to  return  to 
his  imitation  of  Samson.  When  he  did  so,  the  meal 
ran  out  as  if  Philistines  were  driving  him,  and 
in  due  season  the  sacks  were  on  the  pony  and  the 
claybank. 

"  Takin'  out  the  cobs  makes  'em  smaller,"  said 
Abe;  and  away  they  went  homeward,  but  he  was 
troubled  by  a  curious  idea  that  there  was  some  kind 
of  mill-wheel  running  in  his  own  head. 


178 


CHAPTER    XI 

THE    COUNTRY    STORE 

OUR  corners,"  he  said.  "  That  makes 
two  streets.  The  village  is  mostly 
scattered  all  along  'em.  Mother  says 
that  thar'll  be  sidewalks  one  o'  these  days.  Thar 
might  be  now,  if  folks  didn't  like  the  middle  o'  the 
road  better'n  the  sides.  Reckon  old  Gentry's  new 
store  cost  him  a  pile." 

It  must  have  done  so,  for  it  was  coated  all  over 
with  planed  boards  which  came  from  south  of  the 
Ohio  River.  Moreover,  these  were  now  in  process 
of  being  painted  white.  This  was  a  tremendous 
piece  of  extravagance,  and  the  stately  building  it- 
self was  actually  two  stories  high.  It  would  easily 
contain  all  the  goods  which  were  likely  to  be  called 
for  by  all  the  population  settling  within  reach  of  it 
for  years  to  come.  There  it  stood,  on  the  south- 
easterly corner  of  the  crossroads,  and  on  the  op- 

179 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

posite  corner  northward  was  Mr.  Gentry's  barn. 
This  was  large,  for  there  was  at  least  a  half  dozen 
of  it,  of  various  shapes  and  sizes,  but  none  of  it 
was  of  any  other  architecture  or  material  than  log- 
work.  The  several  stables  and  cribs  and  pens  were 
scattered  over  more  than  an  acre  of  ground,  testify- 
ing in  this  way  to  the  liberal  character  of  their  own- 
er's mind  and  pocketbook.  Across  the  road,  west- 
ward, was  Jim  Allen's  blacksmith  shop.  On  the 
other  of  the  four  corners  was  the  as  yet  unpainted 
frame  residence  of  an  important  man  by  the  name 
of  Josiah  Crawford.  With  due  politeness  to  that 
part  of  it  which  was  just  under  the  roof,  Craw- 
ford's mansion  might  be  called  a  story  and  a  half, 
but  not  two  stories. 

"  The  village  is  growin',"  remarked  Abe,  with- 
out moving  from  his  place  of  observation  under  the 
shadow  of  Gentry's  front  barn ;  "  but  this  is  the  first 
time  I've  seen  that  store  since  the  roof  was  on." 

It  was  evidently  making  a  strong  impression 
upon  him,  but  at  that  moment  he  was  hailed  sono- 
rously by  a  new  arrival  on  horseback. 

"Hallo,  Abe!    I  say,  come  an'  hold  this  hoss 

180 


THE    COUNTRY    STORE 

while  I  go  over  to  the  shop.    Jim  Allen's  been  tin- 

kerin'  my  rifle,  an'  I  want  to  see  whether  he's  gone 

an'  sp'iled  the  lock.    The  old  screw  wouldn't  grip 

the  flint  hard  enough  to  make  it  strike  fire,  an'  it's 

jest  awful  to  have  your  flint  drop  when  you  pull 

trigger  on  a  buck.    I  knew  a  man  once  that  had  his 

life  saved  that  way,  an'  it  made  a  pious  man  of  him. 

He  stopped  swearin'  an'  drinkin'.    You'd  best  keep 

a  tight  hand  on  that  boss,  or  he'll  be  walkin'  right 

on  into  the  store,  like  he  meant  to  buy  somethin'. 

I  haven't  had  him  long,  an'  I  don't  exackly  know 

what  he  won't  do  next." 

Old  man  Sansom  was  on  the  ground  long  before 

his  remarks  were  concluded,  and  Abe  had  the  pony 

by  the  bit,  gently  restraining  the  animal's  apparent 

tendency  to  rear  with  all  four  of  his  feet  at  the  same 

time.    His  efforts  were  only  fairly  successful,  but 

the  net  result  of  them  was  by  no  means  altogether 

desirable.    In  less  than  a  minute  after  his  master 

disappeared  through  the  ample  dooi^^ay  of  the 

smithy,  the  restive  dancer  had  brought  Abe  almost 

into  the  store  itself.     At  the  threshold,  however, 

both  of  them  came  to  a  standstill,  and  the  boy  and 

181 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

the  beast  stared  silently  into  the  place  of  business. 
For  the  first  time  in  his  life  that  pony  saw  a  man 
laying  out  calico  on  a  counter,  for  a  bevy  of  ad- 
miring women  to  criticize  and  test  with  eyes  and 
fingers.  He  could  hear  their  remarks,  too,  and  so 
could  Abe.  They  were  telling  each  other,  and  Mr. 
Gentry  behind  the  counter,  about  the  wonderful 
dry-goods  they  had  seen  in  other  times  and  at  other 
places.  Costly !  Splendid !  Too  fine  altogether  for 
the  present  requirements  of  the  sensible  people  of 
southern  Indiana. 

"  Tell  ye  what,  Mr.  Gentry,"  said  one  of  them, 
older  than  the  rest,  "  if  craps  are  good  this  season 
an'  next,  you  don't  know  what  goods  you  may  have 
to  fetch  on.  Some  o'  the  gals  are  awful  extrava- 
gant nowadays.'* 

"  It  was  jest  so  when  I  was  a  gal,"  began  the 

woman  who  was  standing  next  to  her,  with  a  yard 

of  red  calico  displayed  over  one  arm,  but  at  that 

moment  the  pony  interrupted  her  with  a  loud  neigh, 

and  let  fly  a  kick  which  upset  an  empty  barrel  that 

was  standing  outside  of  the  doorway. 

Abe  shouted  "  Whoa !  "  and  hung  bravely  to  the 

182 


THE    COUNTRY    STORE 

bridle,  but  the  pony  wheeled  around  and  stood  with 
his  face  to  the  street,  as  if  he  were  entirely  dis- 
gusted by  the  unhaylike  appearance  of  all  that  he 
had  seen  in  the  new  store.  He  was  also  exhibiting 
signs  of  a  vicious  disposition  to  back,  and  one  of 
the  women  screamed  excitedly : 

"  Oh !  look  at  that  boss !  He's  gwine  to  rare  in !  " 
"  Hold  onto  him,  Abe ! "  roared  another  and 
louder  voice.  "  Jim  hadn't  finished  sp'ilin'  the 
rifle,  but  I  got  back  a  rope  halter  I'd  left  thar,  an' 
I'll  hitch  him  to  Si  Crawford's  hitchin'-post,  an'  I 
reckon  he  won't  make  out  to  pull  it  up.  If  he  does, 
I'll  have  to  pay  for  the  post.  I've  got  him !  Come 
along,  now,  you  black  rascal!    What  did  ye  want 

into  that  thar  store  ?    I  knew  a  boss,  once " 

There  he  ceased  speaking,  for  the  pony  was 
neighing  close  to  his  ear,  as  he  yielded  to  the  pres- 
sure of  the  rope  halter  and  followed  its  influence 
across  the  street.  Abe  was  therefore  unhorsed,  and 
he  walked  on  into  the  store  as  far  as  the  nearest 
counter.  There  he  halted,  and  gazed  rapidly  around 
in  all  directions,  even  at  the  ceiling,  from  which 

many  articles  of  bright  tin  and  pewter  ware,  with 
13  183 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

some  of  iron  which  were  not  so  bright,  were  sus- 
pended low  enough  for  inspection  by  possible 
customers.  There  were  shelves  at  the  sides,  be- 
hind both  of  the  counters,  and  on  them  were  many- 
varieties  of  merchandise.  He  saw  open-topped 
boxes,  also,  which  appeared  to  contain  sugar  and 
coffee  and  salt,  not  mixed  at  all,  but  each  article  in 
a  separate  box  by  itself.  It  took  him  but  a  moment 
to  ascertain  that  the  store  presented  for  sale  all 
sorts  of  agricultural  implements  likely  to  be  called 
for,  with  harness  for  horses,  and  boots  and  shoes 
for  men  and  women.  The  crockery  and  queens- 
ware  bewildered  him  a  little,  there  was  so  much  of 
it  all.  He  was  just  beginning  to  think  painfully 
concerning  worldly  wealth  when  Mr.  Gentry  him- 
self shouted  out: 

"  Abe,  glad  you  came.  I  was  just  wishing  for 
a  boy.  You  take  these  parcels  and  carry  them  out 
to  Mrs.  Harriman's  wagon;  then  hurry  back,  and 
I'll  have  something  more  for  you  to  do.  Step,  lively, 
now ! " 

This  was  not  by  any  means  Abe's  first  acquaint- 
ance with  the  merchant,  and  he  obeyed  with  alac- 

184 


THE    COUNTRY    STORE 

rity.  Of  all  the  things,  however,  which  he  could 
have  thought  of  as  unlikely  to  come  to  him,  but 
that  pleased  him  well,  was  the  idea  thus  put  before 
him  of  becoming  in  any  manner  associated  with  that 
magnificent  commercial  enterprise.  Something  like 
a  shower  of  warm  water  seemed  to  pour  over  him 
as  he  accepted  his  momentary  association  with  the 
new  store.  He  took  the  parcels  and  carried  them 
out  with  a  vague  idea  that  he  himself  had  somehow 
sold  the  goods  to  Mrs.  Harriman,  and  that  he  was 
to  sell  a  lot  more  as  soon  as  he  should  be  better 
settled  in  his  business,  with  an  improved  knowledge 
of  merchandise  and  prices.  It  was  all  as  yet  a  trifle 
dreamy,  and  he  was  stirred  out  of  possible  hallu- 
cinations as  he  was  turning  away  from  the  wagon, 
for  old  man  Sansom  had  hitched  the  pony  and  was 
half-way  across  the  street. 

"Abe,"  he  thundered,  "it's  all  right!  I  didn't 
know  that  Gentry  had  hired  ye.  I  knowed  he  wanted 
a  boy,  for  that  thar  son  o'  his'n  had  ruther  do  'most 
anythin'  else  than  'tend  store,  onless  thar  was  to  be 
all  the  while  nothin'  but  gals  to  trade  with.  An' 
your  folks  have  got  too  many  in  the  house  for  com- 

185 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

fort,  an'  they'd  most  likely  be  glad  to  git  red  o'  one. 
I  reckon  I  would,  if  I  bad  sech  a  raft  on  band." 

He  migbt  have  said  more,  nobody  knows  wbat, 
but  Abe  was  now  disappearing  through  the  door- 
way of  his  place  of  business,  if  that  was  what  it 
was,  and  Mr.  Gentry  was  shouting  at  him  another 
errand,  all  ready  to  be  attended  to.  He  was  a  tall, 
slender  man,  with  a  clean-shaven  face  that  day,  and 
exceedingly  polite  manners  for  that  occasion.  It 
was  not  entirely  unknown  to  Abe,  however,  that  the 
shaving  of  his  face  was  done  regularly  on  Sunday 
mornings,  and  that  one  of  the  griefs  of  his  life  was 
the  marvelous  rapidity  with  which  his  whiskers  and 
beard  would  grow.  Toward  the  end  of  each  week, 
to  his  sorrow,  his  long,  lean  face  was  sure  to  present 
the  idea  of  a  stubble-field  on  which  there  had  been 
a  closely  planted  crop  of  black-stemmed  grain.  In 
his  dress  he  was  fairly  jDarticular  all  the  week,  out 
of  respect  to  his  customers,  but  no  storm  that  ever 
blew  could  have  prevented  him  from  putting  on  his 
best  black  swallow-tailed  suit  on  a  Sunday  morn- 
ing, even  if  he  had  to  stay  at  home  in  it. 

The  main  trouble  with  that  establishment,  that 

186 


THE    COUNTRY    STORE 

day,  was  its  prosperity.  It  had  too  many  custom- 
ers and  only  one  salesman.  It  was  all  but  impos- 
sible for  the  busy  merchant  to  measure  calico  and 
weigh  out  sugar  at  the  same  moment.  He  managed 
pretty  well,  nevertheless,  with  the  assistance  of  his 
newly  arrived  thirteen-year-old  clerk,  although  Abe 
could  not  as  yet  be  entrusted,  of  course,  with  so  in- 
tricate a  matter  as  the  management  of  weighing- 
scales  which  would  go  as  high  as  fifty  pounds.  This 
highly  ornamental  as  well  as  useful  affair  sat  on  a 
counter,  but  on  the  floor,  near  the  door,  stood  an- 
other, with  a  capacity  much  more  ponderous.  Any- 
thing like  a  wagon  or  a  load  of  hay  could  not  be 
weighed  at  any  place  nearer  than  one  of  the  Ohio 
Eiver  landings. 

It  was  well  for  Abe  to  be  kept  so  busy,  or  the 
sudden  change  in  his  circumstances  might  have  be- 
wildered him.  It  surelv  would  have  done  so  if  he 
had  all  at  once  taken  in  the  vast  idea  that  this  ad- 
venture of  his  was  to  last  for  more  than  one  day. 
He  knew  that  his  mother  was  somewhere  in  the 
village,  visiting  a  friend,   and  he  expected  that 

toward  night  she  would  come  and  take  him  home 

187 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

with  her,  in  time  for  the  supper  which  the  girls  were 
to  cook.  He  did  not  fully  understand  the  needs  of 
that  business  nor  the  wisdom  of  his  mother.  She 
finished  her  visit  and  came  to  the  store,  but  she 
did  not  manifest  any  astonishment  at  seeing  her 
son  behind  a  counter.  One  fact  was  that  she  had 
met  old  man  Sansom.  So  deeply  was  he  interested 
that  he  came  in  with  her,  carrying  his  now  com- 
pletely mended  rifle.  It  was  with  this  long,  dan- 
gerous-looking weapon  that  he  pointed  at  Mr. 
Gentry's  new  clerk,  remarking: 

"  Thar  he  is,  Mrs.  Linkin.  I  was  put  into  a  store 
once,  when  I  wasn't  much  older'n  he  is.  But  I  was 
real  bright,  an'  so  is  he,  an'  I  got  out  ag'in.  But 
he'll  git  into  scrapes  with  old  Gentry,  sure's  you 
live.  Nobody  can  git  along  with  him  for  any  length 
o'  time." 

"What's  that!"  laughed  Mr.  Gentry.  "You 
get  out!  But  about  Abe,  Mrs.  Lincoln,  do  you 
mind  my  keeping  him  here  for  a  while  1 " 

"  Why,  no,"  said  she.  "  I'd  kind  o'  like  it.  He 
could  sleep  at  home  an'   come   over  here   every 


mornin'." 


188 


THE    COUNTRY    STORE 

"  Oh  no,"  interrupted  Mr.  Gentry,  "  not  so  bad 
as  that.  I  want  him  to  sleep  in  the  store,  and  he 
can  get  his  meals  at  my  house.  He'll  have  to  be  up 
early  and  sweep  out.  If  it's  cold  weather — and  it 
soon  will  be — he  will  have  to  start  the  fire  before  he 
gets  his  breakfast." 

"That's  what  he'll  have  to  do,  Mrs.  Linkin," 
put  in  old  man  Sansom.  "  If  thar's  anythin'  in  the 
wide  world  that  Sol  Gentry  hates,  it's  gittin'  out  o' 
bed  in  the  mornin'.  An'  he  ain't  wuth  much  arter 
he's  out,  nohow.  Now,  Gentry,  I  want  half  a  pound 
o'  rifle  powder,  best  you've  got,  that'll  go  off  with- 
out holdin'  down  a  coal  o'  fire  on  top  of  it.  Thar 
are  some  kinds  o'  gunpowder " 

"  Just  so !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Gentry.  "  But  if  a 
man  doesn't  know  how  to  load  a  gun,  and  rams 
down  a  wad  before  he  puts  in  his  powder " 

"  Might  a'most  as  well,  with  some  powder  I've 

seen,"  said  Sansom.    "Put  a  light  to  it,  an'  it'll 

burn  steady  all  day.     I  want  some  new  flints,  . 

too — good  ones.    Some  flints  don't  seem  to  have 

any  fire  in  'em,  nohow.    But  I  had  a  flint  once 

that'd  send  out  a  stream  o'  sparks  long  as  your 

189 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

finger.  It'd  burn  a  hole  right  through  a  piece  o' 
leather " 

"  Just  so,"  said  Mr.  Gentry.  "  I  had  a  barrel 
o'  that  kind  o'  flints  once,  but  I  had  to  stop  keeping 
'em.  You  see,  Mrs.  Lincoln,  it  wouldn't  do.  I  had 
to  keep  all  the  time  pouring  water  on  them  to  keep 
them  from  taking  fire.  Might  burn  down  the  store, 
you  know." 

"  Wal,"  she  said,  "  Abe,  do  you  want  to  stay?  " 

"  Of  course  I  do ! "  jumped  out  of  his  mouth 
eagerly.  "  I  can  learn  all  thar  is  in  the  store  in  no 
time.    Keep  it  right,  too." 

"  Ye-es,"  said  Sansom,  "  mebbe  you  can,  but  I 
warn  ye.  Don't  put  that  thar  powder-kag  down  by 
the  fire.  An'  if  you  do,  don't  sit  on  it.  I  knew  a 
feller  once  that  tried  it  on,  an'  you  can't  guess  how 
high  it  lifted  him.    Wasted  all  the  powder,  too." 

There  might  have  been  more  talk  if  Mrs.  Lin- 
coln had  not  been  in  haste  to  get  home;  but  even 
in  that  short  conversation  Abe  had  begun  to  get  a 
glimpse  of  one  of  the  great  educational  advantages 
of  his  new  position. 

If  the   term   "parliament"   means   "talking- 

190 


THE    COUNTRY    STORE 

place,"  and  it  is  said  to  imply  something  of  that 
kind,  then  there  were  two  parliaments  which  were 
frequently  held  at  Gentry's  store.  Sometimes  both 
of  them  met  at  the  same  time,  hut  generally  only 
one  was  in  session,  at  this  place  or  that,  according 
to  the  circumstances  and  the  weather.  If  it  was 
warm,  or  at  least  not  very  cold,  the  doorway  and 
its  neighborhood  was  a  favorite  locality  for  the 
lingering  of  men  who  had  time  to  spare.  Corn 
would  grow  just  the  same  without  their  watching  it. 
All  sorts  of  passengers  on  either  road  were  prone 
to  turn  toward  that  doorway,  if  anybody  was  to  be 
seen  standing  there.  Generally  there  would  be,  for 
there  were  men  who  were  willing  to  stand  guard 
there  an  hour  at  a  time  waiting  for  chance  comers. 
A  shower  of  rain,  or  somebody  bargaining,  might 
cause  the  parliament  to  drift  inside  and  sit  on  the 
barrel-heads  or  the  counters,  or  even  on  the  floor; 
and  there  were  good  commercial  reasons  why  Mr. 
Gentry  was  willing  to  have  it  so. 

As  for  him,  however,  considered  as  a  perpetual 
member,  the  fact  was  that  no  other  man  in  that  set- 
tlement, not  even  old  man  Sansom  himself,  knew 

191 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

more  yarns  and  tales  of  all  sorts,  or  was  apparently 
more  fond  of  telling  tliem,  or  of  hearing  other  men 
tell.  Sansom,  indeed,  insisted  that  Gentry  kept  a 
stock  of  old  stories,  dried  or  salted,  either  down 
cellar  or  over  in  the  haymow  at  the  barn,  ready  to 
be  brought  out  whenever  they  were  wanted.  The 
real  place  of  deposit,  however,  was  probably  nearer 
than  the  barn,  for  his  own  upper  story  was  always 
within  easy  reach. 

The  other  and  often  the  greater  parliament  was 
assembled  only  in  cold  weather.  Its  place  of  meet- 
ing was  at  the  back  of  the  store,  and  here  Abe  was 
now  to  make  his  first  acquaintance  with  that  rare 
luxurv,  a  stove.  Several  broad  slabs  of  limestone 
had  been  put  down  to  protect  the  floor,  and  upon 
these  rested  the  feet  of  an  enormous,  open-faced 
Franklin,  in  which,  with  skill  and  attention,  almost 
as  much  wood  might  be  burned  as  in  any  fireplace. 
It  had  the  advantage,  however,  of  giving  out  more 
heat  than  a  stick  and  mud  affair  could  throw,  espe- 
cially after  its  broad,  rusty  back  became  red-hot. 

Sunset  came,  and  with  it  the  exciting  novelty, 
to  Abe,  of  going  to  Mr.  Gentry's  house  for  supper. 

192 


THE    COUNTRY    STORE 

He  managed  to  go  and  to  get  away  without  having 

uttered  a  loud  word,  so  far  as  he  could  remember. 

It  was  not  only  that  he  was  somewhat  overcome  by 

the  presence  of  strange  company,  but  much  more 

that  he  was  eager  to  be  in  the  store  again  and  to 

take  part  in  its  illumination  for  the  evening's  trade. 

He  had  seen  a  lard  lamp  at  old  man  Sansom's,  and 

had  believed  it  a  big  one,  but  it  was  a  mere  child  of 

a  lamp  when  compared  with  either  of  the  three 

which  Mr.  Gentry  had  brought  with  him  on  his  last 

return  from  Kentucky.    It  was  true  that  he  had 

bought  them  second-hand,  and  that  they  exhibited 

signs  of  antiquity,  but  they  could  hold  lard  enough 

to  make  any  owner  of  them  wish  that  pork  might  be 

cheap  and  evenings  not  too  long.    Besides  these, 

there  were  candles  which  mjght  be  employed  on 

occasion  and  then  blown  out.    There  was  a  lantern 

for  visits  to  the  cellar,  and  that  cave  under  the  store 

was  dark  enough  to  encourage  the  bringing  down 

of  a  lantern  at  any  time. 

It  was  a  treat  to  watch  Mr.  Gentry  trim  and 

light  a  lamp,  but  he  had  no  show-window  to  put 

one  in.    His  lamps  were  to  be  suspended  from  the 

193 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

ceiling  by  long  brass-gold  chains,  so  that  articles 
of  merchandise  on  the  counters  or  the  shelves  might, 
with  close  inspection,  be  distinguished  from  each 
other.  Abe  watched  with  deep  interest  while  they 
were  preparing.  Then  they  were  lighted  and  the 
store  was  brilliant. 

"  Now,  Abe,"  said  Mr.  Gentry,  "  I'll  go  for  my 
supper.  When  I  get  back  I'll  show  you  something 
else." 

Perhaps  he  had  an  insane  idea  that  Abe  would 
be  left  there  all  alone,  and  that  he  might  feel  lonely. 
Perhaps  Abe,  on  the  other  hand,  was  expecting  to 
have  that  vast  concern  all  to  himself  for  a  time.  If 
so,  both  of  them  were  in  error.  It  was  as  if  all  the 
boys  and  some  of  the  girls  of  that  small  community 
had  been  on  the  watch  for  the  departure  of  the  mer- 
chant. All  of  them  had  been  at  school  with  Abe, 
and  word  had  mysteriously  gone  around  among 
them  that  he  had  been  caught  and  caged  and  made 
a  clerk  of  in  Gentry's  store.  If  they  were  at  all 
afraid  of  that  great  man,  or  of  his  crowds  of  cus- 
tomers, they  had  no  fears  whatever  to  keep  them 

from  pouring  in  for  a  stare  at  his  clerk,  and  for  a 

194 


^ 


THE    COUNTRY    STORE 

torrent  of  more  or  less  derisive  interrogatories.  It 
was  of  no  use,  however,  for  he  was  as  ready  as  if  he 
had  been  expecting  them  to  come  or  had  invited 
them.  Besides,  he  had  the  advantage  of  being  be- 
hind the  counter,  and  none  of  them  dared  climb 
over.  There  were  a  few  older  people  who  came  and 
were  willing  to  await  the  return  of  Mr.  Gentry,  al- 
though Abe  appeared  to  know  prices  pretty  well. 
Neither  they,  therefore,  nor  any  of  the  younger  peo- 
ple, purchased  a  cent's  worth.  It  was  all  talk  and 
no  trade. 

There  was  a  reason  why  Mr.  Gentry  became 
willing  to  be  unannoyed  by  customers  for  a  few 
minutes,  not  long  after  his  return.  He  had  seen 
one  of  them  out  into  the  road,  and  when  he  reentered 
the  store  he  strode  at  once  to  the  middle  of  it,  faced 
to  the  right,  and  took  his  silver  watch  out  of  his 
pocket.  Before  him,  on  a  high  shelf  against  the 
wall,  stood  the  most  treasured  jewel  of  his  establish- 
ment. It  was  a  large  and  very  white-faced  clock, 
except  for  fly-specks  and  age,  and  there  was  a  slight, 
rheumatic  crook  in  one  of  its  withered  hands.    It 

was  this  hand  first,  and  then  the  other,  that  had  to  be 

195 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

moved  short  distances  correctively,  before  he  pro- 
ceeded carefully  to  wind  up  the  long-corded  weights 
by  means  of  which  the  delicate  mechanism  of  that 
time-keeper  was  revolved. 

"Abe,"  said  Mr.  Gentrj^,  "that's  exactly  the 
right  time."  But  even  while  he  made  that  assertion 
so  confidently  he  was  gently  moving  backward  or 
forward  the  hands  of  his  watch.  "  You  see,"  he 
continued,  "  I  know  just  how  it  is.  The  clock  runs 
a  trifle  fast.  It  gains  just  so  much.  My  watch  runs 
a  trifle  slow.  It  loses  just  so  much,  every  day. 
When  you  split  the  difference,  you  are  sure  you 
have  exactly  the  right  time." 


196 


^ 


CHAPTER   XII 

THE     DEBATES 

P30  parliament  would  assemble  around  the 
Franklin  stove  until  a  fire  should  blaze 
in  it,  but  there  was  a  promise  of  cold 
weather  on  the  morrow.  The  last  instructions  of 
Mr.  Gentry  to  Abe  had  reference  to  this  fact. 

"  Nine  o'clock  now,"  he  had  said,  "  and  you'd 
better  turn  in,  for  you  must  be  up  and  at  work  not 
much  after  five  in  the  morning.  Sweep  first,  but 
leave  the  door  unlocked,  so  that  any  fellow  that 
comes  to  trade  can  get  in.  If  I'm  really  wanted, 
come  over  after  me.  Make  the  fire  a  good  one.  You 
can  take  coals  from  our  kitchen  fire  at  the  house." 

Abe  went  to  bed,  but  not  before  he  had  thor- 
oughly enjoyed  himself  at  the  front  door,  locking 
and  unlocking  it  again  and  again,  to  see  how  it 
worked.  It  was  his  first  experience  with  a  door- 
lock.     The  bolts  also,  there  and  at  the  back  door, 

197 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

were  objects  of  interest;  they  were  such  splendid 
examples  of  human  ingenuity.  Besides,  the  very 
windows  of  that  store  were  provided  with  fasten- 
ings of  a  remarkable  character. 

"  Thar's  a  heap  o'  things  here  wuth  stealin',"  he 
said  to  himself,  "  and  old  man  Sansom  says  you 
can't  always  tell  who's  a  robber  an'  who  isn't.  He 
said  he  hunted  for  a  week  once  with  an  entire  stran- 
ger, an'  didn't  find  out  he  was  a  thief  till  one  mornin' 
he  woke  up  an'  found  he  was  alone  in  the  woods 
without  any  rifle  or  bullet-pouch,  an'  he  never  sight- 
ed that  chap  ag'in.  Gentry  says  thar  ain't  any 
thieves  hereabouts,  but  it's  his  duty  not  to  put  temp- 
tation in  any  man's  way." 

In  a  few  minutes  more  Abe  was  sound  asleep, 
but  with  an  anxiety  floating  around  in  his  mind  as 
to  how  he  was  to  be  sure  of  waking  and  getting  to 
work  anywhere  near  five  o'clock  next  morning.  He 
was  not  half  sure  of  being  able  to  do  so,  but  he  was 
to  have  unexpected  help.  He  had  been  asleep  less 
than  an  hour  when  he  suddenly  found  himself  sit- 
ting up  and  rubbing  his  head,  which  he  had  bumped 

against  the  counter  above  his  bunk. 

198 


THE    DEBATES 

"  Oh!  "  he  exclaimed,  "  what's  thati  If  it  isn't 
that  clock !  1  heard  it  go  off  yesterday,  but  it  didn't 
make  such  a  racket  then." 

He  was  young  yet,  and  had  never  learned  that 
any  clock  which  can  strike  at  all  can  create  its  best 
din  in  the  silence  of  the  night,  although  it  may  seem 
to  hammer  gently  in  the  daytime.  As  for  Mr.  Gen- 
try's clock,  it  was  an  uncommonly  powerful  gong- 
hitter.  It  appeared  to  be  even  reluctant  to  give  it 
up  after  having  struck  its  appointed  number. 

"  Ten,"  said  Abe.  "  Now  I  can  go  to  sleep  again. 
Reckon  I  won't  jump  in  that  way  the  next  time — 
not  now  I  know  what  it  is." 

He  was  mistaken.  He  bumped  his  head  again 
at  eleven.  He  did  not  do  so  quite  so  severely  at 
twelve.  At  one  he  did  but  awake  and  roll  over. 
Two,  three,  four,  made  him  open  his  eyes  unfail- 
ingly, but  when  five  was  banged  he  lay  still  only 
until  he  had  counted  the  strokes. 

"  Thar ! "  he  exclaimed,  as  he  rolled  out  of  the 

bunk.    "  I'll  sweep  first.    Then  for  some  coals,  and 

I'll  have  a  fire  in  no  time." 

One  long  look  at  the  gaping  mouth  of  the  Frank- 
14  199 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

lin  changed  liis  purpose  on  that  point.  The  door- 
locks  and  bolts  were  attended  to  and  the  store  was 
opened  for  either  thieves  or  customers.  He  took  a 
shovel  with  him,  and  the  kitchen  door  of  the  Gentry 
house  was  also  found  open.  Ashes  were  scraped  in 
the  fireplace.  Ked-hot  coals  in  plenty  were  taken, 
and  then  he  was  quickly  in  the  store  again.  Not 
long  afterward  the  entire  place  was  full  of  smoke, 
while  the  Franklin  and  the  chimney  were  coming  to 
an  agreement  on  the  subject  of  a  draft.  They  did 
agree  shortly,  and  it  was  just  grand  to  see  how  bla- 
zing hickory  could  work  the  iron  invention  of  the 
great  philosopher  of  whom  Abe  somewhat  loosely 
asserted  that  "  he  went  an'  discovered  a  new  kind  o' 
lightnin'." 

He  could  not  linger  to  admire  the  stove  and  the 
fire,  for  he  now  had  before  him  the  genuine  enjoy- 
ment of  handling  a  first-class  broom-corn  broom. 
There  had  never  been  one  in  the  Lincoln  cabin  until 
the  arrival  of  its  present  mistress.  When  one  did 
come  it  had  been  a  subject  of  almost  jealous  conten- 
tion among  the  girls.  They  only  had  been  instruct- 
ed in  the  artistic  uses  of  it,  and  the  boys  had  been 

200 


THE    DEBATES 

compelled  to  let  it  alone.  This  was  wise,  for  a  really 
well-made  broom  will  last  a  long  time  with  careful 
handling  and  with  only  one  floor  to  sweep.  The 
floor  of  the  store  was  not  exceedingly  extensive.  It 
was  swept,  and  Abe  was  ready  to  go  over  to  the 
house  for  breakfast  as  soon  as  Mr.  Gentry  arrived 
to  take  charge  of  things.  Not  a  solitary  customer 
had  yet  turned  up,  but  one  might  come  in  at  any  mo- 
ment, and  the  merchant  took  out  his  watch  to  com- 
pare its  time  with  the  clock. 

"  Keeping  together  pretty  well,"  he  said  of 
them,  and  added :  "  But  I  needn't  put  on  too  much 
fire  just  now.  I'd  as  lief  it'd  be  a  little  cold  in  the 
front  of  the  store.  I  reckon  ice  was  made  in  the 
creek  last  night." 

Abe  found  it  cold  and  clear  when  he  went  out, 
but  it  was  little  he  cared  for  the  weather.  More  im- 
portant by  far  than  that  were  clocks  and  Franklin 
stoves  and  miscellaneous  merchandise.  Thoughts 
of  these  things  may  also  have  been  in  the  minds  of 
his  family  at  home,  for  by  the  middle  of  the  fore- 
noon his  father  had  come  to  see  what  he  was  doing. 

Mr.  Lincoln  walked  into  the  store,  and  all  the 

201 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

way  back  to  the  end  of  it,  exploringly,  as  a  number 
of  his  fellow  citizens  had  done  before  him.  Then 
he  came  forward  again  and  stood  still  to  stare  at  his 
tall,  slim  son  tying  up  a  parcel  behind  a  counter. 

"  Wal,  Abe,"  he  said,  "  this  is  what  your  mother 
did  with  your  'rithmetic  an'  readin'.  I  didn't  reckon 
anythin'  'd  come  of  it  as  soon  as  this." 

He  was  pleased  that  it  had  come,  however,  and 
he  went  away  contented  after  an  examination  of  the 
lock  of  his  rifle,  to  be  sure  it  was  in  good  condition  if 
needed  for  a  deer  on  his  way  home. 

Customers  were  coming  in,  and  every  soul  of 
them  went  to  the  rear  of  the  store  for  a  long  look  at 
the  great  stove  and  the  fire.  Three  men  and  four 
women  came  in  before  long,  with  Mr.  Josiah  Craw- 
ford. One  of  the  men  was  Jim  Allen,  the  black- 
smith, with  a  nailrod  in  one  hand  and  a  small  ham- 
mer in  the  other,  and  Abe  heard  a  woman  say  to 
him: 

"  It's  all  right,  Jim,  as  fur  as  it  goes,  but  it'll 

make  things  awful  cold  in  the  front  o'  the  store.    All 

the  cold  that  gits  in  here'll  jest  be  druv  forrid. 

Why,  I  could  feel  it  when  I  kem  in." 

202 


THE    DEBATES 

Abe  shortly  afterward  found  for  that  woman 
precisely  the  kind  of  brown  sugar  she  wanted,  but 
Mr.  Gentry  came  to  weigh  it  out  for  her,  while  all 
of  Abe's  fingers  were  tingling  to  get  hold  of  those 
weights  and  scales.  The  weighing  was  a  promotion, 
a  kind  of  shoulder-straps  and  feathers,  which  had 
not  yet  been  conferred  upon  him.  Dennis  Hanks 
and  John  Johnston  arrived  before  noon,  but  it  was 
not  until  later  in  the  day  that  his  mother  came  in, 
attended  by  all  three  of  the  girls.  Of  the  three,  it 
was  evident  that  Nancy  was  several  pegs  the  proud- 
est, and  they  and  Mrs.  Lincoln  sailed  back  for  a  look 
at  the  fire.  Mrs.  Lincoln  was  interested  deeply  in 
the  clock. 

"  If  I  live  an'  do  well,"  she  said,  "  I'm  gwine  to 
have  one  o'  them  things  in  my  own  house  one  o' 
these  days." 

She  was  just  the  woman  to  fulfil  her  purposes, 

but  at  present  her  clocks  and  other  luxuries  were 

far  away  in  the  dim  future.    So  it  is  with  many  of 

the  best  of  people;  but  Abe  was  wishing  that  he 

could  take  that  midnight  hammerer  right  down 

from  the  wall  and  give  it  to  her.    "  Reckon  I  could 

203 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

wake  up  in  the  mornin'  without  it,"  he  said  to  him- 
self. 

It  was  not  until  after  dark  that  the  deep  wisdom 
of  Mr.  Gentry  became  fully  manifest.  It  was  not  ex- 
actly that  he  understood  the  great  art  of  adverti- 
sing, then  in  its  infancy,  or  at  least  in  its  childhood, 
but  that  he  was  making  sure  that  no  man  within 
reaching  distance  would  fail  of  coming  to  see  his 
establishment  sooner  or  later.  Whether  it  was  in 
preparation  for  a  parliament  or  a  sociable,  there 
were  two  short  benches  and  several  chairs  collected 
in  the  neighborhood  of  the  brilliant  Franklin ;  there 
were  also  the  counters  to  sit  on  or  lean  against.  One 
of  the  three  lamps  hung  high  over  the  flag-stones 
in  front  of  the  stove,  and  somebody  had  brought 
a  newspaper  up  from  one  of  the  river  landings. 
There  it  was,  handy,  offering  to  bring  in  light  from 
the  outer  world  and  provide  subjects  for  conversa- 
tion for  any  around-the-fire  assembly.  Not  that 
then  or  afterward  Abe  ever  saw  there  any  knot  of 
men  who  appeared  to  be  short  of  something  to  talk 
about. 

That  very  first  evening  a  pretty  full  jam  of  de- 

204 


THE    DEBATES 

baters  were  busy  with  the  fall  elections  which  had 
recently  gone  by.  Abe  was  a  listener.  It  was  all 
very  vague  to  him,  but  it  had  a  strange,  unexpected 
fascination,  for  it  was  his  first  lesson  in  practical 
politics.  He  already  knew  that  there  were  differ- 
ences among  men,  that  some  were  Whigs  and  some 
were  Democrats,  but  he  had  no  idea  how  they  hap- 
pened to  become  so,  and  he  was  instantly  deter- 
mined to  find  out.  Both  kinds  of  men  were  duly 
represented  in  the  Gentryville  parliament,  and  it 
appeared  to  him  that  they  were  about  evenly  divid- 
ed. As  for  Mr.  Gentry  himself,  he  was  an  acute 
mercantile  politician — that  is,  he  was  a  A^Hiig  who 
professed  any  amount  of  reverence  for  General 
Jackson,  and  was  ready  to  sell  goods  to  any  other 
man  who  admired  either  Old  Hickory  or  Henry 
Clay,  if  the  proposed  customer  could  show  a  fair 
prospect  of  eventually  paying  for  the  goods.  Since 
nearly  all  sales  were  made  on  the  credit  system,  it 
was  well  to  be  watchful  in  that  particular. 

When  the  session  adjourned,  it  was  too  late  for 
any  man  who  did  not  have  a  traveled  road  to  go 
home  by,  such  as  would  be  traceable  by  good  moon- 

205 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

light.  A  man  from  a  greater  distance,  or  with  his 
way  to  pick  through  the  woods,  might  do  better  by 
remaining  in  the  village  all  night.  The  presence  of 
a  nearly  full  moon  and  a  clear  sky,  indeed,  account- 
ed in  part  for  the  number  of  outsiders  who  were  in 
Gentryville  after  six  o'clock.  Not  one  of  them 
had  gone  without  supper,  for  Josiah  Crawford's 
place  had  almost  risen  to  the  dignity  of  a  four- 
corners  tavern,  such  as  every  self-respecting  vil- 
lage ought  to  have.  He  was  on  hand,  and  Abe  said 
of  him : 

"  He's  got  the  longest,  peakedest  nose  thar  is 
anywhar  'round.  He's  got  loads  o'  books,  though. 
A  feller  told  me  that  when  he  wants  to  go  to  sleep 
he  sets  at  work  to  read  one  on  'em." 

Mr.  Crawford's  collection  of  books  was  what  his 
neighbors  called  his  library,  and  it  was  extraordi- 
nary. On  a  close  count,  there  may  have  been  forty 
of  them,  including  some  which  were  badly  dog's- 
eared,  and  others  from  which  the  bindings  had  de- 
parted or  remained  only  in  the  shape  of  loose  outer 
clothing  for  the   wisdom  they   wrapped   around. 

The  nearness  of  such  literary  treasures,  however, 

206 


THE    DEBATES 

was  quite  enougli  to  set  new  lines  of  thought  in  mo- 
tion in  the  mind  of  the  young  dry-goods  clerk. 

On  the  following  evening  the  moon  was  one 
shade  nearer  full,  the  sky  was  yet  clearer,  and  there 
was  even  a  better  attendance  by  the  members  of  the 
parliament.  Abe  had  elected  himself  a  kind  of  ser- 
geant-at-arms,  or  it  might  be  a  reporter.  The  fire 
burned  brightly,  almost  extinguishing  the  fainter 
illumination  from  the  lamp  that  swung  overhead. 
The  benches  and  chairs  were  all  occupied.  The  one 
defect  in  the  striking  picture  that  was  making  arose 
from  the  fact  that  there  was  but  one  newspaper 
among  +hem  alljit  was  in  the  hands  of  its  owner, 

s 

an  entire  stranger  from  nobody  knew  where,  who 
proposed  to  spend  the  night  at  Josiah  Crawford's. 
He  was  a  short,  thick-set  man,  with  red  hair  and  a 
shrill,  exasperating  voice.  When  Abe  came  back 
from  giving  a  feed  of  corn  to  one  of  Mr.  Gentry's 
horses  at  the  barn,  this  man  was  reading  aloud  an 
editorial  from  his  newspaper,  like  a  liberal  soul  who 
was  willing  to  give  others  a  share.  Abe  put  a  stick 
of  wood  on  the  fire  and  went  and  sat  on  a  barrel, 
but  the  stick  of  wood  and  the  sparks  and  smoke  it 

207 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

brought  out  into  the  assembly  caused  an  interrup- 
tion of  the  reading.  Into  this  oj^portunity  old  man 
Sansom  suddenly  plunged  with  power  and  vehe- 
mence. 

"  The  feller  that  writ  that,"  he  exclaimed,  "  is 
a  wooden-headed  fool !  Any  man  that's  lived  in  the 
South,  as  I  have,  knows  that  niggers  is  made  to  be 
owned  bv  somebodv.  Thev  ain't  fit  for  anvthin' 
else.  I'm  down  on  free  niggers.  We  don't  want 
any  on  'em  'round  here,  Why,  I  got  out  o'  Ken- 
tucky mostly  to  git  away  from  'em." 

The  stranger  coughed  loudly,  as  if  he  were  get- 
ting ready  to  reply,  but  several  voices  remarked 
"  Jest  so ! "  one  after  the  other,  and  old  man  San- 
som actually  let  his  pipe  go  out  as  he  continued : 

"  You  see.  Mister,  wharever  thar's  free  niggers 
it  ain't  no  place  for  poor  white  men,  onless  they're 
willin'  to  be  counted  no  better'n  a  nigger.  If  you 
want  to  live  'mong  'em  you  must  own  'em." 

Low  growls  and  other  forms  of  assent  came 
from  all  sides,  and  the  stranger  read  something 
more  from  his  newspaper  before  he  said  emphati- 
cally: 

208 


THE    DEBATES 

"  Fellow  citizens,  I  am  in  agreement  with  you. 
This  is  a  great  country.  It  is  a  land  of  freedom. 
Our  forefathers  fought,  bled,  and  died  for  it.  I 
could  wish  that  eveiy  one  of  you  might  do  the  same. 
But  there  is  an  awful  question  staring  us  in  the  face. 
The  black  people  are  increasing  rapidly.  What  are 
we  to  do  when  there  comes  to  be  more  of  them  than 
we  can  sell?  I  ask  you,  will  it  not  then  be  neces- 
sary for  us  to  set  them  free  and  make  them  support 
themselves? " 

It  was  quickly  evident  to  Abe  that  here  was  a 
political  question  with  which  neither  Josiah  Craw- 
ford, nor  old  man  Sansom,  nor  Mr.  Gentry  himself, 
had  ever  before  been  called  upon  to  grapple. 

"  If  he  isn't  jDuttin'  ashes  into  his  pipe  instead  o' 
tobacco !  "  he  said  to  himself.  "  And  old  Si  Craw- 
ford's lettin'  the  toe  of  his  boot  burn." 

Neither  of  them  was  to  be  the  next  sjDeaker,  how- 
ever, for  young  Bob  Sansom  broke  into  the  debate 
energetically : 

"  Wal,  I  don't  care  so  much  about  the  niggers 
as  I  do  'bout  In j ins.  Jest  look  over  your  paper  an' 
see'f  thar's  any  news  consarnin'  them.    We  heard 

209 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

tell,  not  long  ago,  that  some  o'  the  tribes  o*  the 
Northwest  was  takin'  up  the  hatchet.  They 
wouldn't  make  treaties  for  thar  lands,  to  have  'em 
settled  onto  by  the  whites.  Let's  know'f  thar's  any- 
thin'  doin'," 

"  Our  national  dealings  with  the  red  men,"  re- 
sponded the  reader,  "  open  up  another  of  the  great 
questions  with  which  we  are  face  to  face.  We  must 
determine  what  we  are  to  do  with  them.  Our 
great  and  glorious  country  has  grown  up  to  what 
it  is  now  by  a  steady  process  of  removing  the 
aborigines  westward,  and  turning  the  untrodden 
forests  into  farm-lands  and  towns  and  cities  and 
villages." 

"  Wrong  thar !  "  roared  old  man  Sansom.     "  I 

reckon  the  most  on  'em  wasn't  jest  moved  off  the 

land.    They  was  largely  put  under  it,  an'  some  on 

'em  wasn't  even  kivered  up.    Fact  is,  I  don't  jest 

now  remember  any  time  when  thar  wasn't  more  or 

less  trouble  with  the  redskins.    They  never  can  see 

the  right  side  of  a  treaty,  an'  so  they  go  to  takin' 

skelps." 

"  Wal,"  remarked  Josiah  Crawford,  as  he  with- 

210 


y 


THE    DEBATES 

drew  his  burnt  boot-toe  from  its  advanced  position 
on  the  hearth,  "  thar  was  a  feller  here,  not  long  ago, 
that  said  we  were  to  have  another  war  with  England 
pretty  soon.  Is  thar  anythin'  in  the  paper  about 
it?  I'd  like  to  know.  It'd  raise  the  price  o'  pork, 
an'  some  chaps  that  haven't  anythin'  else  to  do 
might  sojer  it." 

"  Our  relations  with  the  mother  country,"  re- 
plied the  eloquent  stranger,  "have  always  been  a 
subject  for  deep  solicitude.  They  always  will  be, 
until  republicanism  takes  the  place  of  monarchy 
among  the  worn-out  and  worm-eaten  oligarchies  of 
the  Old  World.  The  great  difficulty  with  England 
is  her  persistent  refusal  to  comprehend  the  true  na- 
ture of  our  institutions.  I  do  not  think  there  is  any 
probability  of  a  war  at  present.  We  must  raise  the 
tariff  to  a  revenue  producing " 

He  might  as  well  have  set  some  of  the  dry-goods 
on  fire  as  to  have  mentioned  that  dangerous  ques- 
tion in  that  parliament.  Every  man  there  had  views 
of  his  own.  Several  of  them  were  strong  supporters 
of  Andrew  Jackson  and  the  battle  of  New  Orleans, 

and  the  destruction  of  the  United  States  Bank  as 

211 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

an  overshadowing,  tyrannical  money-power.  Tliey 
said  so. 

"  It  was  tigerishly  grasping  at  the  bowels  of  the 
commonwealth ! "  declared  the  stranger ;  but  the 
bung  was  out  of  the  barrel  of  debate,  and  for  a  good 
two  hours  there  were  negroes,  Indians,  British,  tar- 
iffs for  revenue  and  tariffs  for  protection,  mingled 
with  the  smoke  from  the  Franklin  and  the  tobacco 
pipes  in  a  way  which  appeared  to  Abe  to  have  let 
him  right  into  the  middle  of  the  politics  of  his  coun- 
try. It  was  true  that  he  gathered  only  indistinct 
ideas  here  and  there,  but  he  did  gather  them.  It 
was  a  good  beginning,  and  he  might  look  forward 
to  all  the  evenings  of  that  winter  for  additional  les- 
sons of  all  sorts.  It  was  something  which  could  not 
have  come  to  him  in  front  of  the  fireplace  of  his 
own  log-house  home. 

Shutting-up  time  came  at  last,  and  the  debaters 

arose  one  by  one,  with  a  feeling  that  they  had  all 

passed  a  delightful  evening.    They  would  be  sure  to 

come  again,  and  Mr.  Gentry  was  entirely  repaid  for 

the  cost  of  his  lamp  and  his  fire.    He  had  even  sold 

things  to  some  of  the  debaters  which  they  had  not 

212 


THE    DEBATES 

thought  of  buying  when  they  entered  the  store  in  the 
early  part  of  the  evening. 

It  might  have  seemed,  at  first,  that  Abe  had 
really  gained  very  little  from  his  first  political  de- 
bate, however  carefully  he  had  listened;  but  when 
he  was  sweeping  out  the  store  next  morning,  in 
came  Mr.  Josiah  Crawford  to  get  a  pipe  which  he 
had  left  behind  him. 

"  Mr.  Crawford,"  said  Abe,  as  he  handed  him 
the  pipe,  "  what  was  it  that  man  said  about  our  Rev- 
olution an'  'bout  our  havin'  been  slaves  to  old  King 
George"?    I  don't  know." 

"  Of  course  you  don't,"  said  Mr.  Crawford,  who 
seemed  to  be  in  a  disturbed  state  of  mind.  "  Tell 
you  what :  I'll  lend  you  a  book  that'll  tell  you  heaps 
o'  things.  You  must  read  the  Life  of  George  Wash- 
ington, the  Father  of  his  Country,  by  Weems. 
Come  over  and  get  it  by  and  by.  It  is  one  of  the 
greatest  books  that  was  ever  written.  I've  read  it 
myself." 

"  Reckon  I'd  like  to,"  said  Abe.  "  I'll  take  good 
care  of  it.    I'll  be  ever  so  much  obliged," 

"  An'  you  can  do  chores  for  me  now  and  then," 

213 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

said  Mr.  Crawford ;  "  and  perhaps  I'll  let  yon  look 
at  some  other  books.  That  thar  chap  that  put  np  at 
onr  honse  last  night  was  a  leetle  too  tonguey  for 
me.  He  lit  out  at  daylight  this  mornin'  without 
payin'  a  cent  for  his  keep.  I  want  to  see  old  man 
Sansom  an'  tell  him  to  count  his  hosses  kind  o'  keer- 
ful  for  a  day  or  two.  The  critter  that  stranger  rid 
wasn't  wuth  the  powder  an'  lead  to  shoot  him.  He 
might  like  to  trade  with  somebody." 

"  He  couldn't  make  much  out  of  old  man  San- 
som on  a  boss  trade ! "  Abe  asserted  confidently, 
but  he  was  only  half  right. 

Before  nightfall  Mr.  Sansom  was  in  the  store, 
sonorously  complaining  that  one  of  his  best  five- 
year-olds  was  missing,  and  that  in  its  place  had  been 
left  the  sorry  nag  which  had  been  ridden  by  the  elo- 
quent stranger  who  had  read  the  newspaper  for  the 
parliament. 


214 


CHAPTER   XIII 

STUMP     SPEAKING 

I  HE  sessions  of  the  Gentryville  parlia- 
ment were  brought  to  an  end  at  last  by 
the  arrival  of  spring  and  plo wing-time 
and  the  consequent  dying  out  of  the  fire  in  the 
Franklin  stove.  Another  important  change  of  life 
came  to  Abe,  for  just  as  the  month  of  May  grew 
warm  enough  for  corn-dropping,  a  son  of  Mr.  Gen- 
try's returned  from  boarding-school  to  take  his 
place  in  the  store.  Abe  had  to  go  home,  and  there 
were  some  reasons  why  he  was  not  sorry  for  it. 
He  had  not  been  having  an  easy  time,  by  any  means, 
and  his  opportunities  for  making  use  of  Josiah 
Crawford's  library  had  not  been  as  good  as  he  had 
wished.  His  business-like  employer  had  even  for- 
bidden him  to  consume  store-time  upon  literature, 
and  the  immortal  volume  of  Weems,  the  biographer 

of   the    Father    of   his    Country,    had   been   but 
15  215 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

skimmed,  and  not  committed  to  memory  as  it  should 
have  been. 

"  He  has  been  a  very  industrious  little  fellow," 
said  Mr.  Gentry  to  Mrs.  Lincoln,  "  and  I  trust  that 
he  has  learned  things  which  will  be  of  great  value  to 
him  in  his  future  career." 

"  He'll  learn  all  thar  is  to  get  hold  on,"  she  said. 
"  Trust  him  for  that." 

"Well,  Mrs.  Lincoln,  I  can  tell  you  one  thing 
about  him,"  laughed  Mr.  Gentry.  "I've  watched 
him.  In  the  course  of  the  winter  about  everybody 
has  been  here.  One  way  or  another,  Abe  saw  them 
all,  and  he  knows  the  name  of  every  man,  woman, 
and  child  in  all  this  region.  He  can  tell  you  all 
about  them,  too.  He  knows  what  their  religion  is, 
if  they  have  any,  and  whether  they  are  Whigs  or 
Democrats." 

"  That's  Abe !  "  she  exclaimed.    "  I  always  took 

note  o'  that.   He  sees  all  that  goes  by  him,  an'  he  can 

tell  you  what  it's  good  for,  whether  it's  a  critter  or 

a  human.    I  never  saw  such  a  boy  for  pickin'  up 

things." 

Nevertheless,  Abe  felt  a  little  queer  when  he 

216 


STUMP    SPEAKING 

found  himself  once  more  following  the  furrows  and 
dropping  corn.  It  was  humdrum  work  compared  to 
the  laziest  days  he  had  known  at  the  store.  It  would 
have  been  worse,  if  he  had  not  now  obtained  a  great 
deal  more  time  for  reading.  He  finished  Weems's 
Washington,  but  he  somehow  neglected  to  carry  it 
home,  and  it  lay  on  a  rude  shelf  which  had  been 
stuck  against  the  logs  near  one  of  the  windows,  even 
after  other  books  had  come  and  gone. 

Corn-planting  was  nearly  over  when  Mr.  Craw- 
ford sent  for  him  to  work  for  three  days  in  his  own 
field.  He  rewarded  him  with  the  loan  of  a  really 
wonderful  book.  It  was  written  by  an  Englishman 
named  Defoe.  It  told  of  the  adventures  of  a  com- 
mon sailor  fellow  named  Crusoe,  who  was  wrecked 
at  sea  and  cast  away  upon  an  uninhabited  island. 
There  and  elsewhere  he  had  a  number  of  remarkable 
experiences  with  cats  and  goats  and  parrots  and 
wild  cannibals  and  lions  and  shipwrecked  people. 
Abe  could  have  read  that  book  all  through  the  sum- 
mer and  fall  and  winter  if  it  had  not  been  a  pretty 
good-looking   one,   which   Mr.   Crawford   insisted 

upon  getting  back.    He  got  more  work  out  of  Abe, 

217 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

however,  and  lent  him  a  small  volmne  called  The 
Pilgrim's  Progress,  by  John  Bunyan.  There  was 
a  great  deal  of  religion  in  it,  and  Abe  as  yet  knew 
very  little  about  religion.  It  was  time  he  did,  and 
the  book  was  the  right  thing  for  him ;  but  besides  the 
good  teaching  there  were  fights  of  all  sorts,  and  sto- 
ries of  castles  and  giants  and  devils,  and  a  long  ex- 
ploring expedition  into  a  new  country.  After  that 
was  read,  and  before  the  end  of  the  next  winter,  he 
would  have  been  puzzled  to  say  which  of  two  books 
he  enjoyed  the  most,  ^sop's  Fables,  or  the  His- 
tory of  the  United  States.  Some  of  the  stories  in  the 
former  were  equal  to  the  yarns  of  old  man  Sansom. 
As  for  the  history,  it  carried  the  new  nation  onward 
only  as  far  as  the  battle  of  New  Orleans  and  the 
close  of  the  War  of  1812.  The  account  that  it  gave 
of  the  great  victory  did  not  entirely  agree  with  the 
one  he  had  received  from  Sansom,  and  he  asked  the 
old  soldier  about  it.  He  even  carried  the  book  all 
the  way  over  to  his  house  and  read  it  to  him  one 
afternoon.  Sansom  listened  to  the  end  of  it,  all  the 
while  smoking  terrifically,  and  then  he  dropped  his 

pipe. 

218 


STUMP    SPEAKING 

"  Abe  Linkin,"  he  shouted,  "  the  feller  that  writ 
that  is  a  liar !  He  wasn't  thar,  an'  I  was.  'Cordin' 
to  him,  Gineral  Jackson  did  all  the  fightin'  himself. 
What'd  he  ha'  done  without  his  army?  It's  kind  o' 
right  thar,  though,  for  the  army  wouldn't  ha'  been 
thar  if  it  hadn't  been  for  the  Gineral ;  he  raised  'em 
an'  fetched  'em  on.  But  the  feller  has  missed  it 
'bout  a  good  many  other  things.  He  hasn't  said  a 
word  'bout  the  Barrataria  pirates  that  worked  our 
cannon,  nor  'bout  the  Injins  that  was  with  the  Brit- 
ish an'  with  us.  They  all  ought  to  be  put  in.  Tell 
ye  what,  though,  you  mustn't  read  too  many  books ; 
it'll  spile  ye  for  work." 

It  had  not  done  so  as  yet,  anyhow,  and  he  was 

shooting  up  taller  and  stronger  all  the  while,  so  that 

more  work  might  be  put  upon  him.    He  was  ready 

for  anything,  too,  and  many  of  the  settlers  whose 

acquaintance  he  had  made  when  he  was  a  merchant 

in  Gentryville  had  fallen  into  a  way  of  sending  for 

him  to  come  and  work  for  them  a  few  days  at  a  time. 

He  was  always  glad  to  do  so,  for  the  Lincoln  cabin 

was  somewhat  crowded,  and  three  growing  boys 

were  more  than  steady  employment  could  be  found 

219 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

for  at  home.  Money  wages  were  generally  out  of 
the  question,  but  there  were  odds  and  ends  of  cloth- 
ing to  be  earned,  and  bits  of  neighborly  accommo- 
dation which  were  transformed  into  earnings  one 
way  or  another. 

It  was  during  that  next  winter  when  Abe  was 
creeping  on  toward  his  fifteenth  birthday,  that  he 
began  to  think  more  deeply  than  ever  upon  the  sub- 
ject of  lamps  and  candles.  Mrs.  Lincoln  had  pro- 
cured a  lamp,  and  she  had  candles  also,  but  their  em- 
ployment was  one  of  the  exceptional  extravagances, 
and  they  were  not  on  duty  every  evening.  They 
were  as  entirely  shut  out  from  Abe's  ordinary  cal- 
culations as  were  paper,  pens,  and  ink.  He  had  long 
ago  discovered,  however,  that  splits  of  hickory  bark 
would  give  a  sufficient  illumination  for  the  pages  of 
any  volume  that  he  could  borrow.  It  had  been  al- 
most altogether  by  their  aid  that  he  had  advanced 
thus  far  into  the  library  of  Josiah  Crawford,  but  he 
had  employed  sunshine  whenever  that  excellent  sub- 
stitute for  hickory  bark  was  available. 

Evening  light  was  all  the  more  important,  be- 
cause during  two  whole  winters  the  Pigeon  Creek 

220 


STUMP    SPEAKING 

school  had  been  taught  by  another  Crawford,  named 
Andrew,  and  he  had  been  led  to  take  especial  inter- 
est in  his  young  pupil  both  as  to  scholarship  and 
good  manners.  All  the  while,  however,  Josiah  had 
managed  to  get  a  great  deal  out  of  Abe  in  return  for 
his  books,  and  one  of  the  transactions  had  not  been 
profitable  to  the  reader.  It  was  true  that  it  made 
him  the  owner  of  a  book,  or  what  was  left  of  it, 
but  he  paid  dearly  for  the  biography  of  George 
Washington.  It  had  been  put  with  all  care  upon  its 
shelf  near  the  window,  but  less  attention  had  been 
given  to  the  clay  with  which  the  interstices  of  the 
logs  over  that  shelf  had  been  "  chinked."  Just  one 
more  ventilation  in  the  wall  of  a  log  house  was  not  a 
matter  which  called  for  speedy  action,  but  one  night 
there  came  a  driving  rain-storm,  and  its  wind 
hurled  it  upon  that  side  of  the  cabin.  No  other  harm 
was  done,  but  in  the  morning  it  was  discovered  that 
George  Washington  had  been  soaked  through  and 
through.  The  remaining  beauty  of  its  cover  was 
gone.  Even  after  much  drying,  the  leaves  refused 
to  turn  in  their  old  way,  and  some  of  them  would 
never  again  be  readable.    It  was  a  disaster  which 

221 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

had  to  be  reported  to  Mr.  Josiab  Crawford  at  once, 
and  his  face  grew  long  and  stern  while  he  listened. 

"  Abe,"  he  said,  "  that's  a  hard  thing  to  bear,  I 
set  great  store  by  that  book.  It  isn't  easy  to  git 
'em;  they're  scurse.  I'm  awful  sorry,  but  I'll  tell 
you  what  I'll  do :  You  keep  it  an'  call  it  your  own, 
an'  you  come  over  an'  pull  corn  fodder  for  the  vally 
on  it.    My  corn's  jest  ready  for  you." 

Abe  consented,  of  course,  but  he  did  so  with  but 
a  faint  idea  of  the  price  of  soaked  books,  when  they 
are  to  be  paid  for  in  the  work  of  a  boy  in  a  corn- 
field. It  would  have  made  him  much  older  if  he 
had  gone  on  buying  the  Crawford  library  at  that 
rate,  and  he  shortly  lost  a  great  deal  of  his  previous 
esteem  for  the  librarian. 

Abe's  next  important  i^roblem  related  to  wri- 
ting-paper, and  he  won  a  victory  over  it  which  did 
him  credit.  The  solution  consisted  mainly  of  shin- 
gles and  a  draw-knife  from  his  father's  kit  of  car- 
penter tools.  He  made  the  face  of  a  shingle  as 
smooth  as  that  of  a  sheet  of  paper,  and  upon  it  he 
wrote  figures  or  letters  to  his  heart's  content,  with 

a  crayon  of  black  charcoal  from  the  fireplace.    The 

222 


STUMP    SPEAKING 

great  wooden  shovel  that  stood  at  the  side  of  the 
fire  answered  as  well,  and  either  shovel  or  shingle 
might  be  put  in  order  for  further  business  with  the 
draw-knife. 

Smooth  wood  can  hardly  be  described  as  a  step- 
ping-stone, but  it  was  so  for  Abe.  The  day  of  bet- 
ter appliances  came.  Among  the  later  mercantile 
adventures  of  Mr.  Gentry  was  a  lot  of  cheap  blank- 
books,  and  he  could  not  easily  have  explained  why 
he  had  thought  of  selling  them  to  his  usual  custom- 
ers. They  did  not  sell  at  all,  and  shortly  he  was 
ready  to  close  a  bargain  with  Abe  for  one  of  them. 
Ink  and  steel  pens  were  in  the  bargain,  and  from 
that  time  onward  the  young  student  was  in  an  upper 
class  of  his  own  frontier  academy.  Anything  in  the 
nature  of  original  composition  was  to  be  written 
upon  shaven  wood  first,  for  economy,  and  then  if  it 
were  worthy  of  presei'vation  it  was  transferred  to 
the  pages  of  the  copy-book.  These,  however,  were 
usually  reserved  for  extracts  from  books.  Passages 
which  were  especially  valuable  or  pleasing  could  not 
be  entrusted  entirely  to  memory,  but  had  to  be  kept 

for  reference  after  the  necessary  return  of  the  bor- 

223 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

rowed  volume.  Here  and  there  Abe  also  began  to 
stumble  upon  poems  of  various  kinds,  and  there 
were  many  of  these  in  his  mother's  hymn-book. 
With  these  in  his  head  as  well  as  on  his  paper,  he 
shortly  discovered  how  words  might  be  made  to  jin- 
gle, or  rather  to  rattle,  and  he  began  to  make  rhymes 
of  his  own  which  went  into  the  blank-book  as  origi- 
nal poetiy. 

The  wisdom  of  legislators  in  Indiana  and  else- 
where pushed  all  the  fall  elections  on  into  Novem- 
ber, that  politics  should  not  be  interfered  with  by 
the  corn  harvests.  All  the  settlers  were  therefore 
free  at  such  times  to  take  an  interest  in  public  af- 
fairs, and  were  sure  to  avail  themselves  of  their 
pri\aleges.  In  each  successive  election  season  there 
were  gatherings  at  central  points  to  listen  to  the  elo- 
quence of  stump  orators,  generally  from  a  distance 
and  supposed  to  be  great.  Men  of  both  parties 
were  sure  to  turn  out  at  these  political  musters.  Not 
only  were  such  occasions  sociable  holidays,  but  it 
was  dealing  fairly  by  any  speaker  to  come  out  and 
hear  what  he  had  to  say  for  himself.  Old  and  young 
attended,  while  the  women  brought  their  knitting 

224 


STUMP    SPEAKING 

and  their  babies  as  if  tbey  were  expecting  to  vote 
at  tbe  November  polls.  In  all  this  electioneering 
and  oratory  and  discussion  there  was  an  important 
consequence  to  Abe.  Every  speech  that  he  listened 
to  was  like  a  new  settler  come  to  preempt  something 
or  other  that  was  in  him.  Thought  after  thought, 
idea  after  idea,  not  only  came  to  stay,  but  began  be- 
fore long  to  arouse  his  power  of  imitation.  He  was 
just  as  well  satisfied,  however,  that  at  first  it  was 
not  necessary  for  him  to  i^rocure  audiences.  These 
were  things  of  the  future.  They  might  even  have 
been  embarrassing,  as  audiences  often  are  to  older 
speakers,  and  for  the  present  a  vacant  lot  would  do 
as  well. 

"  Tom,"  said  Mrs.  Lincoln  to  her  husband  one 
afternoon,  as  she  stood  in  the  doorway,  "  do  come 
out  here !  I  heard  him,  an'  I  was  afraid  somethin'  'd 
happened  to  him.    Jest  do  look  at  that  boy !  " 

"The  young  rascal!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Lincoln. 
"  I  told  him  he'd  got  to  come  in  an'  shell  corn,  an' 
thar  he  is,  speakin'  on  that  stump !  " 

"  Wal,"  said  Mrs.  Lincoln,  "  I'd  heard  tell  of  his 
cuttin'  up  in  that  way  before.    He  was  over  to  the 

225 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

Whig  gatherin'  last  week.  Jedge  Hoskins  an'  all  on 
'em  made  speeches.    He's  makin'  another." 

That  was  what  he  was  doing,  with  only  an  empty 
corn-field  to  hear  him,  and  he  was  mounted  upon 
one  of  the  largest  stumps  in  that  clearing.  In  a  few 
minutes  more  he  had  all  the  Lincoln  family  before 
him,  with  three  or  four  of  their  neighbors ;  but  Tom 
went  and  pulled  him  down. 

"  Look  a'  here,"  he  said  to  his  lanky  son,  "  do 
you  jest  go  back  to  your  corn-shellin' ;  then  you  an' 
John  can  make  a  trip  to  the  mill.  You  know  more 
'bout  pone  than  you  do  'bout  politics.  Don't  ye  try 
it  on  ag'in." 

Down  came  Abe,  but  he  had  an  unaccountable 
feeling  inside  of  him  that  his  oration — not  his  first, 
by  any  means — had  been  a  kind  of  success,  and  that 
his  father's  prohibition  applied  to  only  that  one  oc- 
casion. It  did  not  cover  the  whole  of  Indiana,  nor 
any  of  the  other  States,  and  there  would  always  be 
stumps  somewhere  for  a  fellow  who  was  ready  to 
mount  them. 

The  political  orators  were  not  the  only  examples 
which  Abe  attemx)ted  to  copy.    There  were  no  set- 

226 


He  was  mounted  upon  one  of  the  largest  stumj)S. 


y 


STUMP    SPEAKING 

tied  pastors  in  that  neigliborliood,  but  there  were 
ministers  who  "  rode  the  circuit "  and  preached  as 
missionaries  from  place  to  place.  The  days  of  their 
coming  were  fixed  long  beforehand,  and  it  made 
not  a  great  deal  of  difference  what  denomination 
of  Christians  any  of  them  nominally  belonged  to. 
Among  their  hearers,  if  they  came  within  her  reach, 
was  sure  to  be  good  Mrs.  Lincoln,  and  she  was  al- 
most as  sure  to  bring  with  her  her  husband,  and 
some  of  the  children  if  possible.  Abe  was  likely  to 
go  on  his  own  account,  if  he  could,  for  a  reason  of 
his  own.  The  fact  was  that  a  preacher  was  as  inter- 
esting to  him  as  any  other  stump  orator,  and  was  as 
sure  to  be  imitated,  and  possibly  caricatured,  at  the 
next  opportunity.  That  might  be  found  in  the 
woods,  or  in  a  corn-field,  at  any  time,  but  something 
more  to  his  liking  was  to  be  had  at  the  house  itself 
on  any  Sunday  absence  of  his  father  and  mother. 
If  Mrs.  Lincoln  and  her  husband  went  to  meeting  at 
a  distance  which  called  for  the  horses,  there  being 
no  wagon,  they  did  not  thereby  deprive  the  young 
people  of  a  sermon,  for  Abe  could  give  them  one 

himself.     The  big  table  pulled  into  a  comer  pro- 

227 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

vided  liim  with  a  pulpit,  and  almost  anything  he 
might  think  of  furnished  him  with  a  text.  HjTnn 
and  sermon  followed,  with  attentive  listeners,  and 
the  young  fun-maker  did  not  know  that  he  was  in 
this  way  developing  in  himself  a  great  deal  of  gen- 
uine interest  in  religious  matters.  At  all  events,  he 
had  been  led  to  read  the  big  Bible  through  and 
through,  and  to  pack  away  in  his  tenacious  memory 
a  vast  amount  of  its  contents  and  teachings. 

During  those  few  years  the  local  changes  were 
many,  and  there  was  a  considerable  increase  of  pop- 
ulation. Neighbors  were  not  now  so  far  away  as 
they  had  been,  and  Gentryville  was  really  a  village. 
The  arrival  of  the  new  state  of  affairs,  however, 
was  looked  upon  with  different  eyes  and  feelings  by 
different  kinds  of  peojDle. 

"  Abe,"  said  old  man  Sansom  one  day,  as  they 
stood  together  in  front  of  Jim  Allen's  blacksmith 
shop,  "  times  is  changin' !  Sometimes  it  'pears  to 
me  like  I'd  have  to  pull  up  an'  strike  out  West." 

"I  reckon  thar  isn't  much  difference  'round 
here,"  said  Abe,  "  'cept  thar  are  more  farms,  an' 
more  folks  to  go  an'  see." 

228 


STUMP    SPEAKING 

"  'Tisn't  that,  Abe,"  groaned  Sansom.  "  I'm 
sellin'  more  bosses  tban  I  used  to ;  I'd  have  some- 
thin'  to  go  with,  if  I  went.  But  game's  gittin'  awful 
scurse,  specially  turkeys  an'  b'ar.  You  have  to  go 
farther'n  you  used  to  to  fetch  in  a  deer.  An'  thar's 
another  thing  I've  noted:  Jest  look  at  them  folks, 
now,  goin'  into  Gentry's  store.  'Tisn't  Sunday, 
nuther.  I  jest  can't  stand  that  riggin'.  Tell  ye 
what,  Abe,  I  won't  never  give  up  my  buckskins,  not 
if  every  other  man  I  know's  wearin'  caliker  an' 
leather  shoes.'* 

"  Wal,"  said  Abe,  "  nobody  wears  shoes  at  home. 
It's  only  when  they  go  to  the  village  or  to  a  huskin' 
or  to  a  house-raisin'  or  to  a  dance  or  to  a  preachin'. 
They  go  barefoot,  too,  an'  only  put  on  thar  shoes  an' 
things  jest  before  they  git  in.  But  old  Gentry's  at 
work  on  'em;  he  stirs  'em  up  to  buy  his  goods." 

"  Jest  so  all  'round  the  country',"  said  Sansom 

sadly.    "  If  things  go  on  in  this  way,  I  can't  stay 

much  longer.    I  did  want  neighbors,  but  I  didn't 

want  so  many  nor  so  close,  nor  to  have  'em  scarin' 

off  the  game.    I'd  go  any  day  if  'twasn't  for  my  boys 

an'  thar  wives." 

229 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

Abe  could  not  altogether  sympathize  with  his 
discontented  friend  on  the  subject  of  game.  He  had 
discovered  that  he  was  not  a  hunter  of  wild  beasts 
or  birds.  Of  course  he  could  use  a  rifle,  but  he  was 
anything  other  than  a  sure  shot.  All  his  practise 
shooting  had  been  in  a  different  direction,  and  it 
was  even  beginning  to  unfit  him  for  the  woods.  He 
was  less  and  less  like  an  Indian  with  every  year  that 
went  by.  There  was  yet  another  reason  for  his  li- 
king the  changes  which  were  so  disagreeable  to  San- 
som.  Partly  owing  to  his  length,  which  made  him 
appear  older,  but  much  more  to  the  amount  of  fun 
that  he  could  make,  he  had  become  a  welcome  guest 
at  all  the  backwoods  merry-makings,  and  was  sure 
to  be  in  attendance  upon  any  that  were  near  enough, 
even  if  he  had  to  borrow  a  horse  to  go.  On  some  of 
these  festal  occasions,  indeed,  the  demand  was  for 
horses  and  a  wagon,  that  the  whole  Lincoln  family 
might  go  together,  for  the  girls  of  the  Pigeon  Creek 
settlement  were  as  ready  as  the  boys  to  dance  all 
night,  whether  barefooted  or  in  shoes,  if  there  was 
light  enough  to  dance  by. 


230 


CHAPTER   XIV 

THE    KAIL-SPLITTER 

|NE  more  winter  went  by.  Most  of  it  was 
spent  by  Abe  in  doing  odd  jobs  of  work 
for  the  neighbors,  whose  clearings,  wi- 
dened by  each  winter's  chopping,  were  crowding  out 
hunters  like  old  man  Sansom.  There  were  deer  in 
plenty,  as  yet,  and  turkeys,  if  one  went  far  enough 
into  the  woods,  but  the  cougars  had  nearly  disap- 
peared. As  for  the  bears,  their  day  also  was  over, 
and  the  hollow  trees  of  the  southern  Indiana  for- 
ests were  likely  thenceforth  to  have  no  better  win- 
ter occupants  than  opossums  and  raccoons. 

It  was  on  a  bright  sunshiny  morning  early  in  the 
spring,  and  Abe  was  once  more  at  old  man  San- 
som's.  One  of  his  reasons  for  being  there  came  out 
in  almost  the  first  words  that  were  spoken  to  him. 

"  Abe,"  said  the  old  man,  "  I'm  g-wine.    I  can't 
stand  this  sort  o'  thing  no  longer.     The  boys  an' 
16  231 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

gals  are  to  keep  this  place,  but  I'm  off  for  Illinoy. 
Mebbe  they'll  foller  me." 

''^Yhai  sort  o'  country's  that? "  asked  Abe. 

"All  nat'ral  medder,"  replied  Sansom.  "I've 
never  seen  a  real  big  prairie  in  my  life,  but  I've 
heard  tell.  No  woods  onto  it.  You  can  make  a  farm 
without  choppin'.    Good  land,  too." 

"  What'U  you  do  for  a  house  1 "  asked  Abe. 

"  Thar's  timber  enough  for  that,  an'  for  fencin', 
all  along  the  creeks,"  he  said,  "  an'  your  farm  can 
reach  out  into  the  open.  Thar's  loads  o'  game,  spe- 
cially prairie  chickens  an'  wolves,  but  the  buffler 
has  mostly  gone  West.  Shows  thar  good  sense.  I'd 
quit,  if  I  was  them !  Now  tell  me,  what  are  ye  gwine 
todowithyerself!" 

"  Reckon  it's  done,"  said  Abe.  "  I  heard  you 
were  goin',  an'  I  came  over  to  say  good-by.  You 
see,  I'm  not  to  stay  much  more  at  our  house.  I'm  to 
git  out  an'  earn  my  own  livin'." 

"  Whar  can  you  do  that !  "  inquired  his  friend. 

"  Why,"  said  Abe,  "  mother's  fixed  it  with  Mr. 
Jim  Taylor,  at  the  mouth  of  Anderson's  Creek,  on 
the  river.    I'm  to  put  in  this  year  with  him.    Six 

232 


THE    RAIL-SPLITTER 

dollars  a  month,  an'  father  gits  the  money,  but  it 
keeps  me." 

"  Wal,"  responded  Sansom  thoughtfully, 
"  you're  kind  o'  young  to  go  out  into  the  world  in 
that  way.  He  owns  the  ferry,  an'  I  s'pose  you'll 
have  to  row  boats  an'  do  all  sorts  o'  things.  Part  of 
every  day  you'll  be  in  Injiany,  an'  the  other  part 
over  in  Kentucky.  'Tisn't  every  man  that  can  live 
in  two  States  at  once.  I  knowed  a  man  once  that 
lived  in  three  without  ever  movin'  off  his  own 
farm.  He  owned  an  island  in  the  Mississippi,  down 
at  the  lower  p'int  o'  Tennessee.  The  river  chan- 
nel ran  west  of  his  place,  an'  the  middle  of  it  was 
the  boundary  'twixt  Tennessee  an'  Arkansaw.  All 
the  while  the  river  was  wearin'  away  the  upper  end 
of  his  island,  but  at  the  same  time  it  was  settlin' 
acres  an'  acres  o'  sand  on  its  lower  end  an'  makin' 
it  bigger'n  'twas  before,  givin'  him  land  for  nothin'. 
Then  kem  a  great  fresh,  a  flood,  that  changed  the 
channel,  an'  the  State  line  with  it,  for  the  river  then 
ran  on  his  east  side,  an'  he  an'  his  f  ann  were  over  in 
Arkansaw.     Then  a  surveyor  was  runnin'  State 

lines,  an'  he  found  the  whole  island  had  been  drifted 

233 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

down-stream  below  the  Tennessee  line ;  and  another 
big  fresh  put  back  the  channel  to  its  old  runnin',  an' 
thar  was  that  thar  plantashin  h'isted  along  into  the 
State  of  Mississippi.  Anyhow,  you'll  belong  to  the 
State  you  sleep  in,  an'  you'll  soon  find  out  whar  that 
is  if  you  don't  git  yourself  drowned  in  the  Ohio,  or 
floated  off  down-stream  to  New  Orleans!  I  wish 
you  may  have  a  good  time ;  but,  bless  my  soul,  Abe, 
how  you  are  growin' !  " 

The  talk  was  a  long  one,  for  Sansom  had  a  num- 
ber of  stories  to  tell  concerning  river  life,  prairie 
Hfe,  the  things  which  had  been  and  the  things  which 
he  had  seen  here  and  there.  Abe  was  really  sorry 
to  say  what  might  be  an  everlasting  good-by  to  him, 
but  he  went  home  at  last  with  a  number  of  fresh 
ideas  of  the  new  career  which  was  opening  before 
him. 

"  Oh,  Abe,  dear,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Lincoln,  as  the 
family  sat  in  front  of  the  smoldering  fire  that  eve- 
ning, "  it  'pears  to  me  like  you  were  gwine  away  a 
thousand  mile !  We  shall  see  you  once  in  a  while, 
too,  but  it's  awful  to  have  you  away  from  us  the 

best  part  of  a  whole  year." 

234 


THE    RAIL-SPLITTER 

"  That's  so,  Sally,"  said  Mr.  Lincoln  tliouglit- 
fully,  "  an'  jest  what  sorts  he'll  be  cuttin'  up,  I  don't 
know." 

There  was  something  to  be  considered  in  that, 
and  it  appeared  as  if  all  the  rest  of  the  family  were 
disposed  to  put  in  a  joint  assent  in  one  form  or  an- 
other. The  fact  was  that  every  one  there  was  be- 
coming aware  that  an  important  part  of  the  life  of 
that  household  was  now  to  be  taken  out  of  it.  It  was 
a  curiously  effective  way  of  making  the  young 
story-teller  and  fun-maker  better  appreciated  at 
home.  He  was  made  to  feel  that  he  would  be  missed 
exceedingly,  and  he  did  not  know  exactly  what  to 
say  about  it. 

"You'll  see  all  sorts  o'  folks,"  remarked  Mrs. 
Lincoln,  "  an'  some  on  'em  you  won't  know  at  all 
what  to  do  with.  Jim  Taylor  himself  is  a  hard  kind 
o'  man,  an'  it  won't  be  easy  to  deal  with  him.  But  I 
tell  you  what,  I  saw  one  thing  while  I  was  thar  that 
I  reckon  you'll  like." 

"  What's  that,  mother?  "  asked  Abe. 

"  Wal,"  she  replied,  "  he  told  me  'bout  it  him- 
self.   He'd  never  ha'  bought  so  many  books  on  his 

235 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

own  'count,  but  there  was  a  kind  o'  doctor  feller  that 
got  to  owin'  him  a  pile  o'  money,  an'  he  took  them 
books  of  him  on  the  debt.  Thar  are  dozens  on  'em, 
an'  some  are  in  prime  new  bindin's — look  as  if  no 
soul'd  ever  opened  'em.  You  may  git  at  'em,  some- 
how." 

"  Reckon  I  will !  "  exclaimed  Abe.  "  But  it 
doesn't  do  a  book  any  harm  to  have  it  read.  Readin' 
a  book  doesn't  wear  it  out.  Rats  will,  though.  Old 
man  Crawford  lost  some  of  his'n  that  way.  An' 
what  kind  o'  good  any  rat  can  git  out  of  a  book  I 
don't  know." 

She  was  able  to  tell  him  a  great  deal  about  the 
people  and  things  at  and  about  the  mouth  of  Ander- 
son's Creek  and  the  landing.  There  were  trading- 
houses  there  and  a  tavern,  or  a  house  which  had  al- 
most grown  to  the  size  and  dignity  of  a  tavern,  and 
it  was  vaguely  reported  to  be  a  great  center  and 
stopping-place  for  horse-thieves.  The  reason  for 
this  was,  she  said,  that  when  once  a  stolen  beast 
could  be  ferried  across  from  one  State  into  the  other 
it  was  almost  of  no  use  to  follow  him. 

"Old  man  Sansom  told  me  about  that,"  said 

236 


THE    RAIL-SPLITTER 

Abe.  "  He  said  he  knew  a  man  once  that  kept  a 
ferry  of  his  own  jest  for  the  good  it  was  in  takin' 
stolen  critters  across  the  river  at  night.  But  he  was 
caught  out  at  it,  at  last,  an'  some  fellers  that'd  had 
horses  ferried  over  put  a  stone  at  his  neck  an'  hove 
him  into  the  river.  Old  man  Sansom  said  he  never 
met  him  ag'in  anywhar  after  that." 

"  He's  gwine  away,  too,"  she  said.  "  Wal,  the 
times  are  changin'.  Let's  go  to  bed,  an'  your 
father'll  take  you  over  in  the  wagon  in  the  mornin'." 

Abe  did  sleep  that  night,  but  he  was  out  of  the 
house  early  the  next  morning,  and  it  appeared  to  do 
him  good  to  get  the  chores  half  done  before  the 
other  boys  were  down  out  of  the  garret.  Then  they 
took  all  that  was  left  away  from  him,  as  if  he  were 
interfering  with  affairs  which  were  no  longer  under 
his  management.  After  that  he  was  an  exceedingly 
quiet  fellow  for  hours,  until  his  father  landed  him 
at  the  mouth  of  Anderson's  Creek.  Here  his  first 
discovery  was  that  to  Mr.  Taylor  and  his  neighbors, 
and  the  Ohio  River  itself,  the  arrival  of  one  more 
very  young  farm  and  ferry  hand  was  of  no  conse- 
quence whatever.    His  father  went  home,  and  then 

237 


THE    BOY   LINCOLN 

there  was  no  more  excitement,  except  in  his  own 
mind,  than  if  a  young  muskrat  had  swum  ashore  at 
the  landing.  Abe  himself  soon  became  cool  and 
calm  externally,  but  he  was  at  once  a  busy  boy. 
It  was  evident  that  his  employer  expected  a  great 
deal  from  him  for  six  dollars  a  month,  and  he  set 
him  to  earning  his  wages  in  a  decidedly  peremptory 
manner. 

Abe  was  ready  for  work.  He  had  counted  upon 
it,  but  with  it  now  came  to  him  a  very  necessary 
process  of  exploration.  There  would  be  no  rest  for 
him  until  he  should  become  entirely  familiar  with 
his  new  surroundings. 

Among  the  first  things  to  be  inspected,  as  soon 
as  an  opportunity  could  be  had,  were  the  boats. 
There  were  several  at  the  landing,  belonging  to  one 
person  or  another,  but  his  interests  centered  upon 
those  which  were  the  property  of  Mr.  Taylor.  He 
had  two,  and  both  of  them  were  scows  with  snub 
noses.  One  was  designed  for  only  two  oars,  or  four 
at  the  most,  and  Abe  felt  sure  that  he  would  soon  be 
able  to  manage  it  with  any  ordinary  cargo.  At  the 
same  time,  it  was  evident  that  no  stolen  horse  would 

238 


THE    RAIL-SPLITTER 

ever  cross  the  Ohio  in  that  concern,  unless  he  might 

he  persuaded  to  swim  ahead  and  tow  the  hoat.    The 

larger  ferr^^-hoat  was  really  large,  and  required  a 

crew  of  three  or  four  strong  men,  for  it  would  every 

now  and  then  he  laden  with  a  wagon  and  its  team. 

As  to  any  difficulties  in  ferrying,  they  would  always 

depend  upon  the  condition  of  the  river.     During 

flood  times,  of  which  there  were  sure  to  be  several 

every  year,  the  narrow  and  shallow  Ohio  of  the  dry 

seasons  became  a  rushing  and  mighty  torrent,  like 

a  great  people  aroused  by  a  great  wrath.    Then  only 

strong  arms  and  courage  and  skilful  piloting  could 

take  a  boat  safely  over.    It  was  not  to  be  forgotten 

in  flood-time  that  there  might  be  danger  also  from 

drifting  tree-trunks  or  floating  ice-floes.    Collisions 

with  these  might  wreck  any  kind  of  craft,  whether 

a  ferry-boat  or  a  State  or  a  nation. 

"  Why,  Abe,"  Sansom  had  once  told  him,  "  I've 

seen  the  Ohio  boomin'  up  all  over  the  bank  an' 

'round  the  houses  at  the  landin'.    You  can't  bet  on 

what  a  river  won't  do  when  it's  up.    I  was  down  the 

Mississippi  once  in  a  great  fresh.    Thar  was  what 

they  call  a  Red  Rise  kem  down  from  the  west  moun- 

239 


THE    BOY   LINCOLN 

tains.  It  ran  througli  that  kind  o'  mud,  you  know, 
an'  it  was  red  as  blood.  The  big  flatboat  I  was  on 
was  clean  out  o'  sight  o'  land  at  the  mouth  o'  the 
Arkansaw  River,  an'  we  went  on  down  to  Orleens  a 
kitin'.  Tell  ye  what,  Abe,  but  wasn't  I  glad  when 
we  took  Orleens !  " 

A  day  or  so  after  his  arrival,  and  at  a  short  dis- 
tance down  the  river  bank,  Abe  saw  a  new  flatboat 
in  course  of  construction.  He  studied  it  from  end  to 
end,  and  determined  that  some  day  or  other  he 
would  get  himself  employed  on  a  boat  as  large  as 
that,  or  larger.  Then,  he  thought,  he  and  the  men 
who  would  be  with  him  would  float  on  and  on  with 
the  current  until  they  were  carried  out  into  the  great 
Mississippi.  This  would  bear  them  southward,  day 
after  day,  night  after  night,  week  after  week, 
through  new  scenes  all  the  while,  until  at  last  his 
boat  should  be  hauled  up  and  hitched  at  the  right 
place.  He  thought  that  then  he  would  manage 
somehow  to  go  on  a  little  farther  and  have  a  long 
look  at  the  deep  sea — at  the  wonderful,  deep  blue 
sea,  with  its  beauty  and  its  eternal  mystery. 

It  was  hard  work  to  please  Mr.  Taylor,  and  Abe 

240 


THE    RAIL-SPLITTER 

had  anytliing  but  an  easy  time  of  it.  All  kinds  of 
farm  work  and  chores  and  errands  fell  to  his  share, 
and  with  them  an  unreasonable  amount  of  fault- 
finding. He  soon  learned  that  not  even  the  most 
faithful,  painstaking  performance  of  duties  could 
save  a  fellow  from  sharp  and  unjust  criticism.  He 
toiled  on,  however,  through  heat  and  cold,  good 
words  and  bad  words,  and  before  long  he  made  him- 
self an  expert  boatman.  He  had  not  much  to  do 
as  yet  with  the  management  of  the  great  ferry- 
boat. That  would  surelv  come  to  him  later,  and 
not  at  so  very  long  a  time,  considering  how  fast  he 
was  growing  and  what  an  extraordinary  degree  of 
strength  he  was  developing. 

Abe  had  a  great  deal  of  ferrying  to  do,  neverthe- 
less, although  it  was  confined  to  the  scow,  which  he 
could  handle,  and  he  had  a  large  number  and  va- 
riety of  passengers  from  time  to  time.  He  noticed 
that  the  men  who  crossed  the  Ohio  in  his  care  had 
but  Uttle  or  nothing  to  say  to  him,  as  a  rule,  but  that 
every  woman  who  entered  that  boat,  without  one 
solitary  exception,  inquired  whether  or  not  he  had 
ever  been  upset.    Most  of  them  wished  also  to  know 

241 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

how  many  persons  had  ever  been  drowned  at  that 
ferry. 

As  to  the  fact  that  the  men  passengers  did  not 
talk  with  a  mere  ferry-boy,  there  was  one  remarka- 
ble exception  to  the  rule.  It  came  toward  the  au- 
tumn, when  a  great  and  entirely  unexpected  flood 
had  been  caused  by  rain-storms  in  the  Allegheny 
Mountains,  far  away,  in  which  the  river  takes  its 
rise.  It  was  not  at  all  necessary  that  there  should 
also  be  a  gTeat  rain  at  the  mouth  of  Anderson's 
Creek. 

The  Ohio  became  very  wide,  muddy,  angry,  and 
swept  down  with  a  swift  rush,  on  the  bosom  of 
which  were  carried  all  sorts  of  things,  including 
some  log  cabins,  two  or  three  frame  houses,  and  the 
bodies  of  drowned  cattle  and  sheep  and  horses. 
Abe  stared  long  and  anxiously  at  the  wild  water, 
to  know  if  there  were  also  any  bodies  of  men  or 
women  or  children,  but  he  did  not  see  any.  While 
he  was  looking  at  the  flood  and  listening  to  its  roar, 
he  heard  the  voice  of  Mr.  Taylor  calling  out: 

"  Abe  Lincoln,  get  the  boat  ready !  You've  got 
to  take  this  man  over." 

242 


THE    RAIL-SPLITTER 

"  All  right !  "  shouted  Abe,  and  he  si^rang  away 
after  his  oars. 

In  a  few  minutes  more  he  was  in  the  boat  and 
away  from  the  landing,  while  on  the  stern  seat  sat 
the  solitaiy  passenger,  who  had  refused  to  wait  in 
Indiana  until  that  flood  should  go  down.  He  was 
an  elderly  man,  tall  and  thin,  with  a  wrinkled, 
closely  shaven  face,  and  remarkably  good  clothing. 
All  the  baggage  he  had  with  him  was  a  small  port- 
manteau. Abe  decided  not  to  ask  him  if  he  were 
able  to  swim.  The  scow  at  first  had  its  broadside 
to  the  current,  and  this  was  sweeping  it  down- 
stream rapidly,  when  the  old  gentleman  quietly 
commanded : 

"  Head  her  up-stream,  young  man.  If  you  don't, 
at  this  rate  we  shall  get  out  into  the  Mississippi.  I 
wish  to  land  in  Kentucky." 

"  Thar  it  is,  yonder,"  replied  Abe.  "  We'll  git 
thar  safe  enough,  onless  they  move  the  old  State 
while  we're  crossin'." 

"  States  can't  be  moved  from  where  they  are 

now,"  said  the  sti'anger.     "  You  are  pulling  very 

well.     There!  you  are  headed  right  now.     Never 

243 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

take  the  pains  to  mn  over  a  drowned  horse;  that 
one  has  gone  by.  I'll  keep  a  lookout  and  teU  you 
when  another  is  coming." 

Abe  pulled  his  best,  but  before  he  knew  it  he  was 
answering  all  sorts  of  quietly  put  questions,  and 
every  now  and  then  the  old  gentleman  would  wrin- 
kle his  high,  white  forehead  and  grumble,  "  Good 
for  him ! " 

It  was  a  long,  exceedingly  fatiguing  passage, 
but  the  Kentucky  landing  was  reached,  and  the 
passenger  and  crew  of  the  ferry-scow  stepped  on 
shore. 

"  Abe,"  said  the  former,  handing  him  a  silver 

dollar,  "take  that  for  yourself;  I  have  paid  Mr. 

Taylor.    Now,  I'll  tell  you  just  one  thing  for  you  tq 

remember:    You  are  fit  for  something  better  than 

rowing  a  scow.    God  has  put  a  great  deal  of  brains 

into  vour  head ;  vou  must  learn  to  use  them.    It  is 

remarkable  that  you  have  already  read  so  many 

books,  awav  out  here  in  the  wilderness.     Go  on! 

Eead !  read !  read !    Make  the  most  of  yourself.    Be 

a  man!    This  country  of  ours  is  dreadfully  short 

of  men.    Good-by." 

244 


THE    RAIL-SPLITTER 

He  was  gone,  baggage  and  all,  and  Abe  stood 
still,  looking  after  him. 

"  I  didn't  even  git  his  name,"  lie  said  to  himself. 
"  I'm  glad  the  old  scow  didn't  upset  with  him. 
Thar's  a  good  deal  of  him.  I  never  had  jest  sech 
a  feller  in  this  boat  before.  Go  on?  I'll  do  it. 
Yes,  that's  what  I'll  do.  I'U  make  the  most 
of  myself! " 

Year  after  year  the  Ohio  swept  on,  on,  on,  at 
flood-time  or  low  water.  Very  many  were  the  flat- 
boats  which  were  built  and  went  with  their  cargoes 
down  the  Father  of  Waters,  never  to  come  back 
again.  On  one  of  them  Abe  himself  made  the  trip 
to  New  Orleans  which  he  had  hoped  for,  and  he  saw 
whatever  there  was  to  be  seen,  going  or  coming. 

Away  westward,  beyond  the  great  river,  during 

all  this  time,  the  prairie  country  into  which  old  man 

Sansom  fled  from  the  too  thickly  settled  forests  of 

Southern  Indiana,  became  itself  thickly  settled.    On 

its  broad  surface  were  countless  farms,  hundreds 

of  hamlets,  towns,  cities,  full  of  wonderful  things 

which  had  not  been  so  much  as  dreamed  of  in  that 

245 


THE    BOY   LINCOLN 

earlier  day.  It  was  in  one  of  the  larger  towns  of 
this  Illinois  prairie,  in  the  spring  of  the  year  1860, 
and  in  an  immense  temporary  hall  called  a  "  Wig- 
wam," that  a  vast  throng  of  excited  citizens  was  as- 
sembled. On  the  side  of  the  wigwam  opposite 
its  main  entrance  was  an  elevated  platform.  It  had 
many  occupants,  but  the  most  conspicuous  of  them 
all  was  a  tall,  dignified  man,  who  arose  and  stepped 
forward  just  as  the  great  door  was  thrown  open  to 
admit  some  important  arrival.  He  stood  in  silence 
and  looked  earnestly  in  that  direction,  while  a  short, 
sturdy  man  walked  slowly  forward  with  a  burden 
on  his  shoulders.  His  load  consisted  of  a  pair  of 
fence  rails,  and  from  them  arose  a  banner  with  an 
inscription  which  might  be  read  by  all : 

TWO  BAILS 

MADE    BY    ABRAHAM    LINCOLN    AND    JOHN     HANKS 

IN    THE    SANGAMON    BOTTOM 

IN  THE  YEAR  1830. 

The  crowd  arose  to  its  feet  and  cheered  vocif- 
erously during   several   minutes.      Then   the   tall 

246 


Photographed  iii  1860. 


THE    RAIL-SPLITTER 

man  on  the  platform  was  silent  a  moment  before 
lie  said : 

"  Gentlemen,  I  suppose  you  want  to  know  some- 
thing about  those  things.  Well,  the  truth  is,  John 
Hanks  and  I  did  make  rails  in  the  Sangamon  bot- 
tom. I  don't  know  whether  we  made  those  rails  or 
not.  The  fact  is,  I  don't  think  they  are  a  credit  to 
the  makers.  But  I  do  know  this :  I  made  rails  then, 
and  I  think  I  could  make  better  ones  than  those 
now." 

Once  more  the  wigwam  rang  with  cheering  and 
with  laughter,  and  then  a  something  of  solemnity 
followed,  as  if  serious  business  were  on  hand.  It 
was  indeed  a  serious  and  wonderful  work  that  was 
doing,  ^he  "  Eail-splitter,"  the  boy  from  the  back- 
woods, the  log  cabin,  the  flatboat,  from  poverty  and 
ignorance  and  desolation,  was  about  to  be  nomi- 
nated and  then  elected  President  of  the  United 
States,  that  he  might  greatly  serve  his  country  in 
its  darkest  hour,  serving  also  the  whole  human  race, 
and  serving  God.  He  would  do  this,  and  then  he 
would  pass  on  into  that  deep,  far  sea  which  is  called 
Eternity,  leaving  behind  him  a  name  and  fame 
17  247 


THE    BOY    LINCOLN 

which  will  but  grow  brighter  as  the  ages  of  the 
earth  roll  slowly  on.  He  had  made  of  himself  the 
best  that  he  could,  and  so  he  had  been  ready  for  his 
work  in  the  day  of  God's  appointing. 


(1) 


THE  END 


248 


r^ 


BY  WILLIAM  O.  STODDARD. 


Each  Illustrated.     i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

The  Fight  for  the  Valley. 

Colored  Frontispiece  and  other  Illustrations. 
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The  Spy  of  Yorktown. 

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Success  Against  Odds  ;  or,  How  an  American  Boy  made  his 
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In  this  spirited  and  interesting  story  Mr.  Stoddard  tells  the  adventures  of  a 
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Chris,  the  Model-Maker. 

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On  the  Old  Frontier. 

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r" 


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icle of  events,  however,  but  teaches  a  valuable  lesson.  The  girls  are  sweet 
and  lovely,  and  quarrelsome  and  impulsive,  just  as  every-day  girls  are.  They 
have  a  hard  and  exciting  time,  and  they  fight  a  battle  and  win  it.  It  is  a 
charming,  wholesome  book. 

t.    APPLETON     AND     COMPANY,     NEW     YORK. 


HEALTHY,  KINDLY,  HAPPY. 


Forest  Land. 

By     Robert    W.    Chambers.        Illustrated. 
Square    8vo.     $1.50  net;  postage  additional. 

This  is  a  series  of  beautiful  little  stories  beauti- 
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little  boy  and  a  little  girl  up  on  the  breezy  hills  on 
the  edge  of  the  woods  making  their  acquaintance 
with  Forest  Land.  The  stories  are  illustrated  by 
eight  full-page  pictures  in  colors  by  Emily  Benson 
Knipe.  The  pictures  are  in  happy  accord  with  the 
text.  The  book  has  a  picture  cover,  a  fancy  lining, 
and  attractive  little  sketches  at  the  heads  and  ends 
of  the  chapters.  Butterflies  are  to  be  found  on  odd 
pages  apparently  fluttering  through  the  book. 

The  little  girl  and  the  little  boy  first  hear  the 
"  Voice  of  the  Forest "  whispering  eagerly  to  them 
to  come  and  see  it,  and  respond  to  the  invitation. 
Then  they  go  in  and  learn  all  the  strange  secrets  of 
the  wee  wild  things,  and  promise  the  trees  that  they 
will  never  be  cut  down.  The  chapters  fill  the 
reader,  be  he  young  or  be  he  old,  with  a  feeling  of 
the  fresh  outdoors,  healthy,  kindly,  happy  thoughts,  » 
and  pure  ideas.  The  breezy  kindliness  of  Mr.  Cham- 
bers's writings  is  better  than  a  tonic. 

D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY,  NEW  YORK. 


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m'M^ 


